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WIT AND HUMOUR 



IN VERSE. 



BY WILLIAM JACKSON, 

Sometime Editor and Part-Proprietor of Cobbett's Political Register, and many years 

Secretary (at home and abroad) to lord Cochrane, Earl of Dundonald, (J.C.B., 

Admiral of the Red and Rear-Admiral of the United Kingdom. 



WITH A PEEEATOEY LETTEE OE APPEOBATION & EULOGY, 

FROM THE LATE EMINENT POET, THE 

KEY. GEORGE CEABBE. 




LONDON: 

JAMES BLACKWOOD, PATERNOSTER ROW. 

1860. 






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INTEODUCTION. 



The following letter from the late eminent Poet, the Rev. 
George Crabbe, it is hoped may prove a Letter of 
Recommendation to the present Collection. It refers to a 
satirical Poem of considerable length (about 1500 lines) 
written in the year 1811, and submitted to the critical 
consideration of Mr. Crabbe. It was afterwards printed, 
and a considerable edition gratuitously distributed, but was 
never offered for sale. The Author will have no intention 
of reviving a performance of so remote a date, unless the 
favour shown to the present Collection (which he scarcely 
hopes) should be such as to call for a new Edition of that 
once-admired Satire. 

Muston, 1th August, 1811. 
Sib, 

You pay me a compliment by asking my judgment, 
and, at the same time, you gratify me by the perusal of an 
ingenious and sprightly Poem, replete with wit, which has no 



IV INTRODUCTION. 

malignity, and humour free from scurrility or indecency. All 
this I can speak freely and fairly ; but whether the Poem should 
be published, I cannot, dare not, undertake to determine. I am 
totally unacquainted with the persons alluded to, and cannot 
judge how far they may be known to readers in general, nor can 
I say how far it is likely these persons themselves are likely to be 
affected ; and though I grant the wit to be void of malignity, I 
do not mean that it is altogether stingless. The whip is not 
poisoned, but it will cut, and the culprit will, I conceive, be sore : 
in fact, I am too much in darkness with respect to the causes for 
satire, as well of the consequences of it, to decide on the propriety 
of the publication, while 1 can speak without hesitation on the 
merits of the Poem. Temporary subjects, I confess, I have 
avoided, and few deserve the care you have bestowed upon this. 
The speech of Quibble has many happy turns, and you appear to 
be quite a master in his kind of oratory ; a few, I think, of his 
points might be spared, that all may be good. I have marked 
with a pencil X a few lines which hurt my ear, but I will not 
say they would offend others ; and on the whole, I think it pity 
that a man of your powers should not have an interesting and 
generally engaging topic. Yet, if there really be an interest 
excited by this affair, and if it will abide long enough for you to 
catch the public attention, I readily grant that the intimate 
knowledge you appear to possess of the gentlemen alluded to, 
and their proceedings, is likely to make a strong impression on 
a reader's mind, and to attain such degree of popularity as 
temporary events can excite, in an age when even great events 
are but temporary. Here I must end. Pardon me if I have not 
done all you required. I repeat my thanks, and assure you, 



INTRODUCTION. V 

Sir. whether the work be made public or not, I shall entertain 
a just, that is, an high sense of the Author's talents, and a 
respect for his opinion, when my verses, in their turn, are under 
examination. 

I am, 

Dear Sir, 

Your obliged and obedient Servant, 

GEO. CRABBE. 

Your India rubber will, I hope, extirpate all my impertinences, 
and restore your MS. to its original purity. Be so obliging as to 
recollect that these are merely offered for consideration. 

Wm. Jackson, Esq. 




CONTENTS. 



ACCIDENT AT SEA, 9 

ADVENTURES OF A LAMB, 13 

BOBBINGTON WAKE, 17 

REPLY TO A LETTER, .--_---. 20 

JOURNEY FROM COVE TO CORK, 26 

INCIDENT ON BOARD, - - ' 30 

THE CHACE, - - - - 34 

NEPTUNE'S VISIT, 42 

COASTING TRIP, 47 

RIDE FROM QUTNTERO, 51 

THE SHERIFF'S EGG, 57 

SICK OFFICER'S LAMENT, 62 

APOLOGY TO TRAVELLERS, 63 

NEW-YEAR'S GIFT, 73 

PARSON'S LAW NO GOSPEL, 78 

MORE OF OUR RECTOR, 83 

GENERAL ANSWER, 92 

AN ENIGMA, - - - - - - - - -94 

13 HE FAT? 97 



Jxritont at S^ 



On board a Ship designed as a Steam Vessel of War for Foreign Service, but fitted 
with masts and sails for the outward voyage. Officers— Captain Alexander ; 
Mates — Messrs. Willis, Hewley, and Coke ; Passengers— Captain O'Whack, Mrs. 
Newmantle, Mrs. Macqueer, and the Author. 



Cove of Cork, 12th Nov., 1821. 

Five mornings ago, a loud voice and a rapping 

At my bed-cabin door interrupted my napping ; 

"I am come," said the voice, " By desire of the captain 

To disturb the repose that you seem to be wrapt in ; 

The ship's full of water — I hope you'll excuse 

My breaking your slumbers to tell you the news." 

And the very next moment sweet Madam Macqueer 

And Mother Newmantle thus rung in my ear: 

" Get up, Mr. Jackson, before we all drown, 

This instant get up, for the ship's going down ! " 

Such reason for rising seems weak to one's thinking, 

When to rise can be only prelusive to sinking. 

Yet I paus'd not a moment its weight to consider, 

But sprang up at once at the word of the bidder : 

To the mind if it came not convincingly plump, 

It at least had the force of a kick on the rump. 

So out of my bed I jumped into my breeches 

And flew to the deck as if hunted by witches : 

B 



10 ACCIDENT AT SEA. 

No offence to the ladies, who pressed on my rear, 
Good Mother Newniantle and Madam Macqueer. 
The latter had charms, and perhaps to dispense, 
But a witch she was not in the wickedest sense : 
For prayers on her knees she soon loudly did say, 
And she said them not backwards, but slick right away. 

The ship, to be sure, was in horrible trim, 
Her engine-room full of the sea to the brim ; 
The waves on all quarters tremendously rude, 
And seeking or boring fresh holes to intrude ; 
And the winds from above, like the gods at old Drury, 
Were clashing loud discords of frolic and fury. 

It is well for a ship, when in such a disaster, 
And well for her people to have a good master ; 
And this, I will say, for our worthy commander, 
Who deserv'd, as he was, to be nam'd Alexander, 
He seem'd quite at home in the midst of the trouble, 
And worked the right way to get out of the hobble. 
He determin'd to Cove to endeavour to steer her, 
For the winds were oppos'd to all ports that were nearer: 
So the way that he took was the way the wind drove, 
Which, help'd by good steerage, has brought us to Cove. 

South-west of the Lizard, two hundred and forty 
Odd miles we had reach'd, when the waves made a sortie ; 
A plague on the Ehyme for perverting my speech ! 
I mean the reverse — when the waves made a breach. 
And thence to the Cove was two hundred and fifty ; 
No, forty again, but the Ehyme is so shifty ! 
Which distance we ran — let me pause, lest the Ehyme 
Again should mislead me — in thirty hours time ; 
Which gives for each hour — I am bent on precision — 
Exactly eight miles by the rule of division: 



ACCIDENT AT SEA. 11 

At eight in the morn we began, and got through 
On the following day, post meridian, at two. 

Now this was a notable thing to perform 
By so leaky a ship in so angry a storm, 
With volumes of sea in her engine-room churning, 
We constantly pumping, they ever returning. 

May Heaven the life of the builder prolong 
For making the bulkheads so tight and so strong ! 
If the water within could have forced any issues 
Through the engine-room walls, what a treat for the fishes ! 
Why Hewley alone might a porpoise regale, 
And Captain 'Whack make a meal for a whale ; 
Poor Mother Newmantle, some shark's solid prize, 
Would have found for his grinders renew'd exercise ; 
To his submarine cell he would doubtless remove her, 
To enjoy cut and come again over and over. 
More delicate gluttons, select in their cheer, 
Would have pick'd the sweet bones of dear Madam Macqueer. 

I shall never forget how that lady's affright, 
So extreme in the morn, turned to joy in the night! 
How herself on her knees in the morning she flung, 
How at night on the knees of another she sung ! 
Not in any degree had the danger then ceas'd, 
But alarm had diminish'd, and hope had increas'd. 
The wind, though excessive, still blew the right road, 
And bravely we wagg'd with our leak and our load. 
To retire to repose, though she could not for fear, 
Yet high rose the spirits of Madam Macqueer. 
When the night was advanc'd, and our course we still kept, 
how she was laughing who lately had wept ! 
She who pray'd in the morn, and with weeping was dim, 
At midnight was singing — what was not a hymn ! 



12 ACCIDENT AT SEA. 

Short-liv'd was her mirth ; for at daylight's return 
That lady, so gay, was again seen to mourn ; 
'Twas not that she fear'd the reproach of the light, 
For merrily passing so awful a night ; 
But it was that the light made it's visit too short, 
And withdrew in a fog ere we got into port. 
And to all it was grievous, as well as the lady, 
When the day to the sight turn'd unpierceahly shady. 
And still, as the nearer we got to the shore, 
Unable the same with our eyes to explore, 
Our sorrow increas'd ; and death seemed to betide us, 
When we nothing could see but the breakers beside us ; 
And knew not what part of the coast we were near, 
Nor which way to turn from the danger to steer. 

Our ship, too, was sorely disordered and shaken 
From the monstrous large dose of salt-water she'd taken ; 
Some hundred and upwards loose tuns of the ocean 
Could not fail in her belly to raise sad commotion ; 
With a hole in her bottom, admissive of more, 
As long and as broad as a common church-door. 
And never did popular preacher occasion 
Of chapel or church more tumultuous invasion, 
Than those bullying billows for ever essay'd 
To effect through the breach which then* fury had made. 
Their strength with our weakness was fearfully leagued, 
For the people with pumping were dropping fatigued. 

Add to these the strong gales and occasional squalls, 
And had we not need of the strength of our walls ? 
Need, too, of the energy, presence of mind, 
And skill of our excellent captain combin'd? 
But need, most of all, of that heavenly boon, 
A glimpse of fresh sunshine, which came about noon. 



ADVENTUKES OF A LAMB. 



JitatfTO 0f a f amir. 



A SONG: 

As sung during the Election for Westminster, -which resulted in the return of J. C. 
Hobhouse, now Lord Broughton, in the room of the Hon. George Lamb. 14,000 
copies were disposed of. 



So changed were the times since the beasts of the field 
To the sway of mankind were accustom'd to yield, 
That many dumb creatures, and creatures with claws, 
Assembled in senate to make human laws ! 

What with fish, flesh and fowl — what with tigers and cats, 
Sharks, monkies and magpies, and asses and rats, 
A senate there was, where the brutes to the men 
Were a hundred to one, and 'twas christen'd the Den. 

Yet brutes though they were, they disclaimed usurpation, 
And swore that they govern' d by representation! 
"We're the choice of the people ," cry'd beasts of all classes 
"The voice of the people we speak," said the asses. 

"Yes, we bray for the people," exclaim'd all the donkies ; 
"For the people we chatter," said magpies and monkies; 



14 ADVENTURES OF A LAMB. 

"Our voice," screamed the cats, "is the nation's alarum;" 
And so squeak' d the rats from the huts of Old Sarum. 

But the strangest of beasts was an impotent Lamb, 
Who his nose in the Den had the folly to cram; 
And strange was his plea, for he gravely pretended, 
That from the great Fox he was rightly descended ! 

From the Westminster Fox when the Lamb claimed descent ; 
When to rival his barking with bleating he meant ; 
Wh.en he oaa!d in the name of the Westminster men, 
E'en the cats joined the laugh that arose in the Den. 

Food for laughter he was, which some think was the cause 
That the beasts did not use him as food for their maws ; 
But they could not be wroth, for he crouch'd at their feet, 
And vow'd that the Den was quite decent and sweet. 

And when the true choice of the Westminster clan, 
One Francis by name, who was really a Man, 
Denounc'd the whole herd for defiling the House, 
The poor conscious Lamb was as mute as a mouse ! 

"With a shovel," said Francis, "and that very soon 
The Den must be cleansed:" said the Lamb, "with a spoon!" 
"A speedy Reform" said the Man, "and a thorough! " 
"Once an age," said the Lamb, "let us lop off a Borough!" 

So he pass'd through the Den without danger or strife, 
And sav'd, it is thought, something more than his life ; 
For when out he still cast a sheep's eye at the Den, 
And pray'd to Westminster to pass him again. 



ADVENTURES OF A LAMB. 15 

But the Westminster men had been rous'd from their sleep, 
And look'd with contempt on the poor little sheep ; 
They saw he was silly ; vjell-fed, but ill-taught, 
And the mange of the Den they preceiv'd he had caught. 

They saw (his fine feeding and breeding apart) 
He was weak in the head and unsound at the heart : 
So they ordered their officers, Francis and John, 
To rebuke him, and bid him turn tail and begone ! 

Now John was a man of the same sort of kidney 
As Francis himself, and as bold as old Sidney ; 
And was justly preferr'd as a Lion to Lamb, 
As a man to a mouse, or as substance to sham. 

Westminster was pledg'd such a man to provide 
To fight in the Den by Sir Francis's side; 
And none was more able to give the beasts battle, 
And rescue the land from such troublesome cattle. 

But the Lamb was pot-valiant and mounted the stage, 
And dar'd the two heroes at once to engage ; 
So they cook'd him between them, and thus the rash dunce 
Of a Lamb was well-roasted on both sides at once. 

Then he cry'd at the mouth, and he cry'd at the eye, 
And savage he grew when they laugh'd at his cry ; 
And swore he would butt them about like a bull, 
But still they retorted, "Great Cry, Little Wool!" 

And his brags, while he bleated, with hisses were greeted, 
And the people his jugglings and stragglings defeated ; 



16 ADVENTURES OP A LAMB. 

Of his hopes they bereft him, and left him forlorn, 

And jeer'd him and shear'd him and sent him home shorn. 

So up with John Cam, 

And down with George Lamb, 

And send him home shorn to his Daddy and Mam. 



THE PLEASUKES OF BOBBINGTON WAKE. 17 



A SONG. 
(For the benefit of Mine Host of "The Lion.") 



Now, now is the time for the lovers of sport 

Their troubles and cares to forsake, 
For the monarch of mirth holds his annual court, 
And all his droll subjects invites to resort 

To his revels at Bobbington Wake ! 

could we describe but a tithe of the mirth 

All England would come to partake, 
Even those who have never known pleasure on earth, 
Those sorrowful souls who have wept from their birth, 

May be happy at Bobbington Wake ! 

You've nothing to fear if your sides do not burst, 

For with laughter they'll mightily shake ; 
But they never will split if you strengthen them first 
With as excellent liquor as ever quench'd thirst 
At the Lion at Bobbington Wake. 



18 THE PLEASURES OF BOBBINGTON WAKE. 

Let Ascott and Epsom refrain from their brags, 

And Newmarket's pre-eminence quake ; 
We excel them in sport with our fleet little nags, 
And our droll exhibitions with barrows and bags, 

At the races at Bobbington Wake ! 

Though they got a long start and have gained a great name 

Their renown we shall soon overtake ; 
We shall jockey them out of the saddle of fame, 
And all racing affairs shall be judg'd to be lame 

But the races at Bobbington Wake ! 

The elements too shall together conspire 

Delight and diversion to make ; 
Balloons and sky-rockets and figures of fire, 
And all that the eye or the heart can desire, 

Shall charm you at Bobbington Wake ! 

You may swear that the day is outshone by the night 

Without the least fear of mistake, 
Although all the stars should retreat with affright, 
And comets with envy turn tail at the sight 

Of the fire-works at Bobbington Wake ! 

It were endless to tell of the schemes we devise 

For more comical merriment's sake ; 
Such as matching droll faces to grin for a prize, 
And old women smoking in each other's eyes, 

To amuse you at Bobbington Wake ! 



THE PLEASUKES OF BOBBINGTON WAKE. 19 

From gambols so homely to joys more refin'd 

Yourselves you will doubtless betake, 
To join the gay dance with sweet music combin'd, 
And partners so lovely you never will find 

As the lasses at Bobbington Wake! 

If happiness then is the prize you would win, 

If to gain it all haste you would make, 
Come hither before the diversions begin, 
And a joyous reception you'll meet at the inn, 

At the Lion at Bobbington Wake ! 



20 



Well, you've broken the seal, and have hastily glanc'd 
At the length of my letter, and now you're entranc'd ! 
And it's metrical form, (at the sight on't you danc'cl) 

It's value enhanc'd: 

Deny if thou canst ! 

Your belief is no error, and can be no crime, 
That I'm the great Poet, the first of my time, 
The witty, pathetic, profound and sublime, 
And all that is prime, 
In blank verse, and rhyme. 

I can soimd my own trumpet! I need not be told 
That I'm chief of all Authors, both modern and old, 
And my works should be printed in letters of gold, 
And more of them sold 
Than England could hold. 

And when I relax, with what exquisite skill 

My paper with bubbles I playfully fill ! 

Or quibbles, or banter, or just what I will, 

With my jig-about quill, 
That seldom stands still. 



21 



As boys blow a bladder, so I an epistle ; 
Cannot you relish air as an ass does a thistle? 
If not, for what's better you're welcome to whistle, 

Till you crack your throat's gristle: 

I care not a bristle. 

Did you hope to receive a methodical answer? 
Do you think if you fiddle that I shall turn dancer? 
Must I follow your moves as a dog does a man, Sir, 
From Beersheba to Dan, Sir? 
I won't if I can, Sir ! 

Shall I, Sir, hereby, in reply, certify 
That on Thursday, the twenty -first ultimo, I 
Did duly receive your kind compliments by 

The mail : witness my — 
And so forth ?— fie! 

Did I take any trouble to view the eclipse? 
Impertinent questions I answer with quips 
And scoffs, from a distance — when present, with whips, 
Cross-buttocks and hips, 
Bloody noses and lips, 

If I did not take trouble, at least I took panes, 
And smoke I employ'd to imbue them with stains, 
And then I beheld, without scorching my brains — 
What in vain the Muse strains 
To express in rhyme's chains. 



22 



Ah, sure, if too blind an eclipse to remark, 
Myself so eclips'd to be quite in the dark, 
To thee I'd acknowledge, most erudite clerk, 

That blind I am, stark ! 

And of light beg a spark. 

What! eight hours a-day do you sit to your Greek, 
And yet of your appetite boastingly speak, 
As though you could swallow three sheep in a week, 
A calf for a cutlet, and eke 
A bullock by way of a steak ! 

Now tell me, thou mental and bodily glutton, 
Thou wholesale devourer of learning and mutton, 
How far does thy belly before thy back strut on? 
If thy coat thou canst put on, 
Does it burst every button? 

Art thou of a bulk one may fitly compare 
To a corporate body, including a Mayor? 
Is thy back of the breadth of the big bed at Ware ? 
Thy bottom, though bare, 
Would it scorn Lambert's chair ? 

What size are the sides thou affectest to shake 
At my chasing the fish, in sea, river and lake, 
While alone with thy teeth thou dost exercise take, 
Or thy jaws, till they ache, 
Ere a meal thou canst make ? 



23 



Gett'st thou from thy table delights so ecstatic, 
As I from my frolicks in regions aquatic, 
Whereby I grow plump as a parson prelatic, 
And keep my wit, attic, 
While thine is phlegmatic ? 

Know, then, that in turn I to laughter incline, 
And shake my fat sides at the leanness of thine ! 
For thou, though an ox scarcely serves thee to dine, 
Giv'st of feeding no sign : 
One of Pharoah's lean kine ! ^ 

But, lo ! in thy body of skin-cover'd bone, 
I discern a great soul the full size of my own, 
That breathes bloody war in a patriot tone, 

To rogues who are prone 
Their Queen* to dethrone ! 

May thy flesh, as thy spirit, be mighty to thrive ! 
And be thou assur'd, if the time should arrive 
To have at the thro'ats of the traitors a drive, 
That I, if alive, 
To help thee will strive ! 

Convinc'd as I am that each tale-telling elf, 
Is belying the Queen for the lucre of pelf, 
I would fight in her cause, if I know my own-self, 
Ay, until the great Gruelph 
Should be laid on the shelf! 

• Caroline, Queen of George IV. 



24 



Methinks, even now that we march to the battle 1 
We fight with " Old Bags, Derry Down and All-T wattle ! ' ! 
We silence for ever their pestilent prattle! 

Thy jaws, with a rattle, 
Devour the vile cattle ! 

But, alas ! of a hero how faulty the portion 1 
When a giant in war I'm in wit an abortion 1 
With increase of valour comes mental distortion, 
And wit, sense and caution, 
I lose in proportion ! 

There was but one Caesar who knew to unite 
The science of war with the talent to write : 
So adieu to the pen, now I'm bent on the fight ! 
For my blood at the height 
Bids my brains a good night ! 

Art thou Caesar the second that thou should'st propose 
Not only to knock down, but write down thy foes? 
Nay, Caesar struck first, and then wrote down the blows, 
And it arrogance shows 
Caesar's plan to transpose. 

Yet write if thou wilt ; but I tell thee again, 
If I take up the sword, I must lay down the pen, 
And only resume it for epitaphs, when 
The traitorous men 
Lie dead in their den ! 



A EEPLY. 25 

For length and for strength be your life like a cable, 
Your fine constitution unshakeably stable, 
May always good news bear your name on the label, 
Be your's a rich wardrobe, white, colour'd and sable, 
And lots of broad lands, crown'd with many a gable, 
May you catch all the tongues that were started from Babel, 
And plenty, profuser than poets can fable, 

May you ever be able 

To heap on your table ! 

Tell the liars who say that my heart is cold iron, 
They shall howl in the flames which all such shall environ, 
While I sing as sweetly as ever sung Syren 
The heavenly choir in, 
Your's faithfully, 

B * 

10th October, 1820. 

* Although a portion of the contents of the above Poem may be thought to give 
it an appearance of having been written by a noble and illustrious Poet, now deceased, 
it is presumed that there is as little danger of its being mistaken for a genuine effusion 
of that great man, as there was of the burlesque imitations published (some fifty years 
since) under the title of " Rejected Addresses," being considered the actual productions 
of their nominal Authors; and, if possible, less — as there is not the slightest similarity 
between the style of the above and that of any known composition of his Lordship. 



26 JOURNEY FROM COVE TO CORK. 



f Draws fira &^ to CM- 



Cove of Coek, 6ft Dfa, 182L 

How tedious the month, we have spent at the Cove, 
Endeavouring our ship to repair and improve ! 
A little to change the monotonous scene, 
By land and by water to Cork I have been. 
The first time by land, in a trap call'd a jingle, 
And so small of its kind, that I hop'd to ride single ; 
But the fates, to my sorrow, had otherwise will'd it, 
For in roll'd another who more than half fill'd it. 
The discourse of my jolly companion was pleasing, 
And half made amends for his person so squeezing; 
So, jolting and jesting, we mov'd in a mode 
That was just to be borne, for two-thirds of the road; 
And we might to the end have endur'd the concern, 
Had not jingle the second gain'd ground on our stern ; 
'Twas then that our driver, that urchin accurst, 
Swore jingle the second should never be first ; 
And fierce was the wrath that their rivalry brew'd, 
And fearful the contest of speed that ensued. 
Our youngster to yield we commanded in vain, 
And vain were his efforts the strife to maintain ; 
Side by side for a struggle the course grew too narrow, 
When our rival came up with the speed of an arrow ! 



JOURNEY FROM COVE TO CORK. 27 

I perceive that I've laid myself open to criticism, 
Which the carper will vent in precisely this witticism : 
" That arrow was shot," (you'd as good hold your tongue), 
" From a traveller's bow so proverbially long ; 
A bog-trotting hack, with a cart at his tail, 
Fly as fast as an arrow ! A tub to a whale ! 
No, no, you've miscarried; I'm not such a dolt." 
Well Tve shot my arrow, and you, Sir, your bolt ; 
The how of the proverb ! Pray, have you forgot 
Whose holt, says the proverb, is hastily shot? 
You may criticise, Sir, in a critical place, 
But not run me down when I'm running a race : 
Leave that to the opposite party to do, 
And they did run us down, and with violence too. 
If it was not so swift, yet as bloody the blow 
From the shaft of that car as the shaft from a bow ; 
It sever'd our desperate steed from his gear, 
And knocked him down bleeding amid his career ; 
Myself and companion evaded its force, 
But it cruelly wounded that innocent horse. 
The victor vouchsaf'd an expression of grief, 
But was full, and in haste, and could give no relief. 

"Oh I oh! then that jingle was loaded outright, 
That took such a more than poetical flight! 
As quick as an arrow I " My arrow so quick 
Still sticks in your gizzard, and there it may stick. 

When the youngster perceiv'd that our persons were spilt, 
And the blood of his horse, he roar'd out "I am kilt! " 
Which from anger to pity diverted my mind, 
For his bones might be broken, though sound was his wind; 
Why, where are you hurt, my poor fellow? said I, 
But "I'm kilt ! I am kilt ! " was the constant reply ; 



JOURNEY FROM COVE TO CORK, 

And a hundred times over (I'm sure I don't bounce), 
Those words, "I am kilt," did that urchin pronounce. 
What the deuce does he mean, my good Sir, can you tell? 
Said I to my comrade; said he, "Very well ; 
He manes to avert, by his piteous tones, 
That exquisite hating we owe to his bones ; 
And. fait we may fairly dispense with the trouble, 
For he'll catch it at home in a ratio double." 

So I shook off at once both my anger and pity, 
And walk'd all the rest of the way to the City. 
My corpulent friend to that motion demurr'd, 
And patiently waited for jingle the third. 

It well were worth walking, and walking again, 
Though instead of three miles it had been the whole ten,. 
To visit that city — not merely to view it — 
But chiefly to see and be welcom'd by Hewitt ; 
Whereby you at once become lord of a mansion, 
And free of a heart of unbounded expansion ; 
So the first thing you'll do, if you've got any sense, 
If you wish to live happy and free of expense, 
Will be to inquire when to Cork you are come, 
Where lives Isaac Hewitt? and then you're at home. 
There is not a cratur in Cork but will answer, 
"Come on, and I'll show you the house and the man, Sir." 
Ten to one, the next morning, you'll find yourself centred 
In the best bed of down and forget how you enter' d. 

But you'll never forget to reflect with delight 
On the joy of the day and the ease of the night ; 
Yet forget all the rest — aye, forget, if you can, 
The welcome and wine of that prince of a man — 
I defy you as long as you live, to resign 
The precious remembrance and relish divine 



JOURNEY FROM COVE TO CORK. 



29 



Of that liquor of life, of all care the sure killer — 

The whiskey, I mean, of that noble distiller. 

You'll forget, while with him, that you ever could grieve, 

Till the moment arrives of your taking your leave. 



30 AN INCIDENT ON BOARD. 



$\\ fnritot m §0Mft. 



Cove of Coek, 27(h Sec, 1821. 

If we reckon each day but the length of a year, 

While uhblest with the presence of Madam Macqueer, 

What must we have felt for a week of such days 

Which has pass'd since that lady withdrew from our gaze ! 

In vain do we court her — no message can win her 

To grace with her presence our breakfast or dinner. 

How dreary the deck and how gloomy the cuddy, 

Now lit up no more with her countenance ruddy ! 

Alas! what a change! She so solemn and staid is, 

She gossips no more with the engineers' ladies ; 

No more with the boatswain a joke will she crack, 

Nor mimic the strut of stiff Captain O'Whack. 

No longer she romps with the mates in the gun-room, 

And sad is the scene which of late was a ftm-room. 

In her own little cabin she lives a recluse, 

Of all social pastime renouncing the use. 

She admits, with reluctance, her cheerless repast 

Through her half-open'd door, and then closes it fast. 

I pause for a light, for the cuddy grows dark : 
Hist! silence! On deck there ! ! What noise is it? Hark! 
The captain's on shore, and there's tumult on board ; 
Is there none to control it? Boy, bring me my sword! 






AN INCIDENT ON BOARD. 31 

But before I could arm, enter'd Willis, the mate, 

Who exclaim'd, "Come on deck, Sir, before it's too late!" 

Some imminent danger that call indicated, 

But it's cause and it's nature left undesignated. 

Yet, wherefore the cause of the danger be told, 

When sure the next instant the same to behold ? 

So I hasten'd to face it, nor paus'd to inquire, 

Is it mutiny, massacre, deluge or fire ? 

I err'd in conjecture ; the noise and the fear 
Arose from the sorrows of Madam Macqueer. 
She had rush'd from her cabin, ascended the poop, 
Stoop'd over the stern, and persisted to stoop ; 
And many half-efforts she seemingly made 
To cast herself down, but recoil'd as afraid. 
It seemed as if lasting might prove the sad strife 
'Twixt her terror of death and her horror of life. 
No haste was essential to hinder the deed; 
For force, at the least, there was no urgent need; 
And the people around seem'd politely inclin'd 
To allow her full leisure to make up her mind. 
A brief, perhaps wholesome, immersion in water. 
The worst that could happen was short of self-slaughter, 
The boats to her rescue would instantly press, 
And remarkably buoyant her person and dress. 

For myself, I considered that standing aloof 
The dame's resolution to put to the proof, 
Might hereafter give rise to reflections unpleasant, 
So I made active use of the time that was present. 
With a look of condolence I gently drew near, 
And took the white hand of poor Madam Macqueer, 
And softly inquir'd what the reason might be 
Of her looking so wistfully into the sea? 



32 AN INCIDENT ON BOARD. 

"My intention," said she, "is to throw myself in," 

But you must not, dear madam, commit such a sin. 

"What is life, Sir, to me," (and then sorely she sobb'd,) 

"When of character, Sir, I so basely am robb'd? 

" You know there are scandalous rumours afloat," 

But none, said I, soothingly, worthy of note. 

"What though in the gun-room, one mirth-making night, 

I shar'd until morn the convivial delight ; 

You too, Sir, was there, and can speak to the fitness 

Of the whole of my conduct." Yes, ma'am, I am witness. 

"And you know, though you prudently quitted at two, 

How many were with me." Yes, madam, I do. 

"It was not with Willis alone, but with Hewley 

And Coke that you left me." You say very truly. 

"And there they remain'd, Sir, they did not go out 

To leave me with Willis." I have not a doubt. 

"Why then I might sit until five in the morn, 

And as innocent be as the baby unborn ; 

With three men together no harm could befall ; 

'Twas foolish, I own it." Yes, madam, that's all. 

"There was never before the report of a spot 

On my honour and character." Certainly not. 

"Yet now on the deck I'm afraid to appear; 

Wherever I go I am met with a sneer ; 

There is not a creature to whom I can speak ; 

I'm confin'd to my cabin, and have been a week ; 

Her door to my entrance Newmantle opposes ; 

The wives of the mechanists screw up their noses ; 

The lowest mechanics, to whom I would talk 

With so much condescension, retreat when I walk ; 

I'm cut by the carpenter, blown by the smith, 

And my business with life is to end it forthwith." 



AN INCIDENT ON BOAKD. 

Then squeezing my hand, she edg'd on by degrees 
To the uttermost verge, but relax'd not her squeeze ; 
All the pressure it had of a final adieu, 
But withal too resolv'd to have parting in view ; 
To fall, both or neither, it gave to my option, 
And without hesitation I made my adoption ; 
I promptly supplied the preservative check, 
And drew the fair mourner safe back to the deck. 
So, instead of imbibing huge draughts of the sea, 
We've both in the cuddy been sipping our tea: 
And at this present moment so light are her woes, 
That there she sits sewing, and sings as she sews, 



34 THE CHACE. 



JUL 



At Ska, January, 1S22. 



Clean out of that dirty, dull harbour of Cove, 

We at length, were enabled, thank heaven, to move ; 

But so rough was the weather next day, that, alack ! 

We lost two of our yards, and were taken aback. 

And foul was the wind for four days in succession, 

And resistlessly bent to oppose our progression ; 

And then having blown away all its asperity, 

It sped us along with surprising celerity. 

Ten to twelve knots an hour were our regular rates ; 

So at least say the logs of both captain and mates. 

We rattled past Lisbon as though we were fearing 

That the whole Inquisition were out privateering. 

But it was not .those fiends nor their fires we were shunning ; 

It was not from heat but from cold we were running — 

And pleasant it was in such short space of time, 

To change a hard winter for such a sweet clime. 

Such a race against Time is not won in a day, 

But we ran in a week, from December to May. 

The way to beat Time is to steal his own plan ; 

So we staid not for him who will stay for no man. 

We hop'd in like manner to win our next race, 

Which at sea is well known by the name of a chace, 






35 



And so, when pursued, we resolv'd not to stay, 
For we only could conquer by running away ; 
But tlie plan was not now so successful to be, 
For be who ran after ran faster than we. 

What's that at my elbow? What art thou ! What art- 
Curst shade of a critic, I charge thee, depart ! 
"What, vanish in silence! (quoth ghost) no, not I! 
When spoken to first I am bound to reply ; 
Yet I came not to answer but vex you with queries." 
" Propound them," said I, " and I'll solve the whole series." 
" What was it pursued you? Why were you alarm'd?" 
" Nay, one at a time; 'twas a cruiser well armed." 
" Why suspect 'twas his purpose your vessel to fire at?" 
" Because he pursued us, and look'd like a pirate." 
" Was he bigger than you?" " He was only a brig." 
" Not so big, then, as you?" " No, about half as big." 
" So you, the fast-sailing and steam-ship of war, 
That to fight for the New World was sent for so far, 
Were afraid by the way of becoming the prize 
Of a thief of a pirate of half your own size ! " 
" Even so, saucy fiend, but one thing you forget, 
That our fitness for war was in embryo yet. 
If you think that a maggot, before it attains 
Its pinions can fly, you have one in your brains. 
But no ; I beg pardon ; you're only a ghost, 
And have lost the few brains of which once you could boast ; 
For the head you now wear is not real but mock, 
And is even more senseless than was your old block. 
But I say they are equally difficult things 
To war without weapons, and fly without wings; 
And the grub that's unfledg'd could as easily soar, 
As we without guns could defeat half a score." 



36 THE CHACE. 

" So you neither to fight nor escape had the power, 
Though you boasted just now of your twelve miles an hour 1 
I thought, as to wings, by your bragging of late, 
You'd already attain'd to your butterfly state." 

" Well, I said that our vessel was swift in her motion, 
But not that she distanc'd all ships on the ocean ; 
Very few, I believe, can be found to outstrip her, 
But our foe was a flying American clipper. 
Besides, at the first, with a breeze blowing brisk, 
We outsail' d him, and thought we were out of all risk ; 
. But our sails grew relax'd as the wind became dull, 
While those of our dapper pursuer were full : 
As the breath that would serve a small bladder to charge, 
Would a vacuum leave in another that's large. 
What's the weathercock's sweep when compar'd to a mill? 
Yet it whirls with a puff when the latter stands still." 

" You may similes make, Sir, from night until morning, 
But the truth, if you tell it, requires no adorning ; 
And if there was not enough wind for you blowing, 
Why did not you set your steam-engine agoing?" 

" Because we were bound by the strictest proviso, 
Not to get up the steam on this side Valparaiso, 
To which obligation to force us to look, 
We shipp'd no more coals than were claim'd by the cook. • 
If you're satisfied now, you'd as good disappear ! " 
But the insolent shadow replied, with a sneer, 
" I deem your excuses as weak as your wit; 
Confess you were caught and compell'd to submit." 

" Not so fast, I rejoin'd, I'll no further be task'd, 
Till I in my turn a few questions have ask'd. 
You were once a reviewer of poem and play, 
And have done a great deal in the cutting-up way ; 



THE CHACE. 

And now you belong to the regions of pain, 

Where the punishment due to your spite you sustain ; 

And I'd fain make you tell (though I shrewdly can guess) 

The nature and weight of your penal distress. 

Do your torments consist in the utter privation 

Of the means of pursuing your mangling vocation ? 

Are you scoffingly offer' d new books to dissect, 

And, depriv'd of all light, their contents to inspect ? 

From damning the works, which you must not examine 

Are you constantly barr'd, and is that your own damning ? 

Is your critical ghostship the endless endurer 

Of an impotent, raging, professional furor? 

Have you nought to allay it ? no purgative heat, 

No furnace of refuge, no naming retreat, 

To fly to for succour against your own rage, 

Your plague to outburn and its pangs to assuage ? 

Can't you bathe for relief in hot liquified pitch? 

Is brimstone no cure for yonr species of itch? 

Or, if it be not of a kind that is catching, 

Will no friendly demon afford you a scratching? 

Might not Satan himself lend the aid of his claws? 

And more I would ask, but for breath I must pause." 

Then the spectre retorted, "Vile dabbler in rhyme, 
Call you this asking questions by one at a time f 
I answer them thus ! " And he puff'd in my face 
A stream of hot sulphur, and sank to his place. 

Eeliev'd from the fiend, I return to relate 
Our chace by the pirate, and subsequent fate. 

Our purpose was flight, and we strain'd ev'ry nerve, 
And spread all our canvass that purpose to serve. 
But, in spite of our efforts, we finally found 
That the longer we labour'd the more we lost ground — 



38 THE CHACE. 

(Though ground is a word that may seem out of place, 

Since water, not land, was the scene of the chace) — 

So, at last, when quite sure that for flight we'd no chance, 

We doggedly waited the pirate's advance ; 

But it must not be thought that we meant no resistance, 

Though none could we make if attack'd from a distance. 

Nine holes on each side for our cannons we counted, 

But most of them empty ; two only were mounted. 

Fast upon us was coming the Rover with ten, 

So we hop'd not to match him with metal, but men. 

Down below went the women, and children, and lumber, 

And in arms, upon deck, we were sixty in number ; 

All fully determined, if hostilely boarded, 

To have pik'd our assailants, and pistoll'd and sworded! 

Soon close at our side the pursuer appear' d, 
And presented a force that was form'd to be fear'd. 
Let alone his great guns (and the truth to report, 
I have no wish to meddle with things of that sort), 
His display of arm'd men was terrific to view ; 
There could not be seen a more terrible crew. 
They number'd a hundred and thirty and five, 
And form'd a fierce mass of dense mischief alive. 
Don Quixote himself at the sight would have stagger'd 
Of a host so befirelock'd, bespear'd, and bedagger'd. 
Their appearance was frowning, ferocious, defying, 
As if quarter disdaining, and quarter denying. 
They seem'd from all nations pick'd out for a quarrel, 
And many wore turbans and bloody apparel : 
And some that wore turbans had ceas'd to wear ears, 
Black bloodthirsty bravos outlaw'd from Algiers. 
To describe, would exhaust all the ink in my standish, 
Such a frightful collection of ruffians outlandish. 



THE CHACE. 39 

Short respite it seem'd from the imminent danger, 
When words, and not blows, were first heard from the Eanger ; 
Yea, short, though his sense he in English convey'd, 
Which a moment, no more, our suspicions allay'd : 
For scarce had our captain conform'd to the order 
To take his ship's papers on board the Marauder, 
The instant he enter'd his boat to comply, 
Their hundred and thirty -five muskets let fly! 
'Twas sudden, 'twas stunning — 'twas awful — 'twas more — 
For down dropp'd our men, at the least half a score ! 
Yet none were quite killed, though they all thought they were, 
For the muskets were purposely fired — in the air ! 

The terror of slaughter began to subside, 
But still did the fear of being plunder'd abide ; 
Our captain's detention was longer, we thought, 
Than was needful if all was to end as it ought. 
Inquisitive glances we constantly threw, 
To seek how he fared with that heathenish crew : 
But in vain did we look — and the distance between 
The ships kept increasing and clouding the scene. 
Yet, at length with our glasses, a glimpse we obtain'd, 
And saw our commander, and lo ! he was chained ! 
And gagg'd with a substance that seem'd from its smoking, 
Intended to render conclusive the choking ! 
But the manner of chaining, you ask ? Why, in brief, 
He was link'd arm in arm with the privateer chief! 
And the gagging so fiery ? The two noble tars, 
On the deck, as they strutted, were smoking cigars ! 

'Twas pleasant to view them so closely allied, 
And to see them return in the boat»side by side ; 
By the chief of the pirates thus boarded to be, 
Was not a sad prospect, but pleasant to see. 



40 THE CHACE. 

But pirate we must not again designate him, 
But a privateer-captain legitimate rate him, 
With lawful Columbian Kepublican orders 
To bang the old Spaniards within the sea's borders ; 
Which commission, he told us, was just to his will, 
For he hated the Spaniards, they'd us'd him so ill ; 
And he told us the when, and the where, and the how. 
But none of the three need I dwell upon now. 
He profess' d to be highly delighted to find 
That we to assist the same cause were design'd ; 
Though at first he expected to make us his prize, 
For he took us for Spaniards who sail'd in disguise. 

He confess' d that his crew were a ruffianly gang, 
And many for murder deserving to hang ; 
But penitent fellows they were, he must own, 
And eager enough for their crimes to atone ; 
And to wash out for ever each murderous stain, 
They would wash well their hands in the blood of old Spain ! 
Then, in talk, the old Spaniards profusely we bled, 
And the best blood of Portugal actually shed : 
Of the blood of the grape, which beyond all denial, 
Is nobler and richer than any blood Koyal, 
We swallow'd a gallon with infinite glee, 
Such exquisite bloodthirsty spirits were we ! 
'Twas the feat of the two noble captains so hearty, 
And of me, the brave private, who made up the party : 
For Captain O'Whack with our mirth disclaim'd kindred, 
Though he afterwards grumbled, and swore he was hinder' d. 

Our visitor staid till the close of the day, 
But now I dismiss him with little delay. 
Yet before he returns to the place whence he came, 
I will, with your leave, introduce him by name ; 






THE CHACE. 41 

Wherein his profession you also may trace, 

For thus he described himself, Captain John Chace, 

Commanding the privateer-brig Vencedor, 

And born and respected at Port Baltimore. 

To us his deportment was full of civility, 

And his person and dress had the air of gentility. 

On the next day, at night, I may notice in brief, 
We were off the Canaries and saw Teneriffe. (Jan. 11.) 

On the fifteenth we enter'd the tropic of Cancer ; 
On the eighteenth we fish'd, and we found it to answer ; 
For though we caught nothing that fit was to eat, 
We hook'd a small grampus that measur'd nine feet ; 
And well the young monster rewarded our toil, 
By affording twelve gallons of limpid lamp-oil. 
No Wind on the nineteenth, excepting a breeze 
By Madam Macqueer, which went down by degrees. 
By the Cape de Verds Islands proceeding to pass; (Jan. 21.) 

Spoke the Mellish, an Indiaman, bound to Madras. 
Hail'd a Dutchman for news, without thinking of harm, (Jan. 27.) 
But our singular aspect created alarm. 
The answer he gave us excited our mirth; 
" 'Tis peace, Sir, indeed Sir, all over the earth!" 
To which our reply from his fear set him free; 
" And peace, too, we hope, Sir, all over the sea." 



42 neptune's visit. 



Ifeftaw's f isit. 



At Sea, Nth January, 1S22, 

God Neptune in form of Ned Darby the thin, 
Not incarnate, but simply in sinew and skin, 
From his throne in the deep condescended to rise, 
And over our bowsprit to lift up his eyes ; 
Announcing in thunder his pleasure divine, 
To o'erhaul us to-morrow on crossing the line 

The sound of the trumpet proclaim'd the approach (Jan. 31.) 
Of the god of the sea in his dolphin-drawn coach. 
Such fishes of burthen he us'd at his marriage, 
When he stole off his wife, who now came in his carriage. 
She seem'd even now a mere girl of a goddess, 
For proof against Time are celestial bodies ; 
She appear'd but in name any change to have known, 
For Neptune familiarly calTd her his Joan : 
Which might as a compliment meant to that tar be, 
Whose likeness the god had assum'd, honest Darby 
In costume a mistake must be also confess'd, 
For she neither was naked nor very well dress'd. 
In the fate of Action we read what a sin it is 
To survey the bare beauties of female divinities ; 
And the Coventry tailor, who stole through a pane a 
Sly peep at Godiva, divine as Diana. 



neptune's visit. 43 

So in mercy to mortals our goddess was clad, 

Yet her majesty's garments were mortally bad; 

Quite as near seem'd their end as remote their beginning ; 

For eternal sea-water is fatal to linen. 

Or it might be the goddess (however well stor'd 

Her submarine wardrobe) came naked on board ; 

For truly her raiment appear'd to the life 

Like the every-day dress of our second smith's wife. 

Old Neptune himself was respectably rigg'd, 
Tremendously bearded and awfully wigg'd; 
Such a beard, as befitted a deity's chin, 
Seem'd the growth of all Time, and ere Time did begin ; 
Such a wig as in chaos might first have been curl'd, 
And its spherical form have suggested the world ; 
His majesty's barber chief statesman appear'd, 
Lord-keeper he was of the wig and the beard ; 
And like a mere statesman of earth he behav'd, 
For it was not the king, but the subject he shav'd. 

There were stockingless tritons, with shells in their hands, 
There were beadles with broomsticks and ushers with wands ; 
There were judges and hangmen, with hemper pigtails, 
And Justice herself was a mermaid with scales; 
And troops of officials, too num'rous to name, 
In the train of the lord of the trident there came. 
Our Captain full dress'd, with his mates at his back, 
And sustained right and left by myself and O'Whack, 
With all possible homage, just short of prostration, 
Encounter'd the god and his stern visitation. 

Unpropitious the mood of the monarch appear'd ; 
His trident he shook and his wig and his beard; 
And again shook his trident, his beard, and his wig, 
And loolt'd, as was meet, superhumanly big ; 



44 neptune's visit. 

And the better the cud of displeasure to chew, 

The quid of content from his palate he drew. 

That a storm was at hand was decidedly clear, 

In spite of the sunshine of Madam Macqueer. 

She shone with her eyes through a pane in the cuddy, 

-But dispers'd not the clouds of his visage so muddy. 

And the trumpet partook of the accent of war, 

As attention it call'd to the god in the car : 

What a speech did he make from his travelling throne ! 

You may read it, but how shall you copy the tone ? 

KOYAL SPEECH. 

" Of all the strange ships I have seen 
In the course of my very long reign, 

This here is the rummest machine 
That ever appear'd on the main. 

" If it is not of vessels the oddest, 
My barber's no hand at a wig ; 

And my wife, may she cease to be modest, 
If ever I saw such a rig. 

" Is this what you call a Polacca? 

'Tis the first that e'er came to the Line, 
Or may this be the last quid o' bacco 

To comfort my palate divine! 

" What are here? double powers of motion! 

Steam-engines and canvass combin'd ! 
But your steam is all smoke, I've a notion, 

Less certain, I trow, than the wind. 



neptune's visit. 45 

" And your crew, 't is my royal opinion, 

Scarce fit for old Pinto's own dish is ; 
For there is not in all my dominion, 

Such a villainous fry of queer fishes. 

'? In short, I ne'er saw such a Bark, 

Nor so full of strange animals stor'd, 
Since the day that I saw Noah's Ark, 

With all sorts of reptiles on board. 

" Gadzooks ! though my nature's so tender 
That the "brine often drips from my eyes, 

Yet an awful account you shall render 
For taking me so by surprise I 

" I'll make you explain the occasion 

Of your coming in such a strange fashion ; 

For, by jove, it is downright invasion, 
And has put me quite into a passion! 

" Besides my fine feelings are hurt 

To find you so rudely behav'd, 
As to come to my court in your dirt, 

With your faces unwash'd and unshav'd. 

" 'Tis plain that no razor has ever 

Pass'd o'er your chins since you left harbour ; 

So every man's mug I deliver 
To the delicate hands of my barber. 



4:6 neptune's visit. 

" Then perhaps I my fury may waive, 
And my lady may cease to be glum ; 

But you all must submit to a shave, 
Or buy off with a gallon of rum." 

" Thus in his sentence did the god combine 
At once his wisdom and his rage divine ! 

Thus was of yore his thund'ring Brother's head 
Of panoplied Minerva brought to bed! " 

%* Note.— The Sequel to 'Neptune's Visit,' and various other Sea-Pieces, are 
missing. 



A COASTING-TRIP. 47 



§i fcstwjj-irip. 



Valparaiso, July 5, 1S22. 

Our chief has a house, at a distance not more 
Than nine or ten leagues, very near the sea-shore ; 
In the steamer, to-morrow, a trip he intends 
To visit that house with a party of friends. 

To-day, in the steamer, pursuant to notice, (July 6.) 

The party embark'd, and the vessel afloat is. 
'Tis long since my spirits have felt so elate, 
We are steaming away at so pleasant a rate. 
The objects around are all pregnant with glee, 
My pen is the only dull thing I can see ; 
So I'll quit it this instant to mix with the party, 
Who are shaking their sides with their laughter so hearty. 

Now, stupid! (for so I have christen'd my pen), (July 7.) 
Though as dull as thyself, I resume thee again ! 
To tell of the cause of the glee and the laughter, 
And, alas ! of the sorrow which follow'd soon after ! 
Of each in its turn — but of both by and by — 
For my hand at a character first let me try. 

Zenteno, who now as a governor struts, 
Was once an itinerant retailer of nuts ; 
Until, in a bargain, it luckily chanc'd 
That he cheated a lawyer, which got him advanc'd ; 



A COASTING-TRIP. 

For so pleas'd was the old with the juvenile shark, 
That he taught him to write, and employ'd him as clerk ; 
And he stuck so to law that he grew quite a limb, 
And clients at last became nuts unto him. 
For clients are nuts which a lawyer may sell, 
* Or their goods may be nuts, and their portion the shell. 
Zenteno, moreover, took Liberty's part ; 
Nay, the cause was so good, that he took it to heart ; 
His soul patriotic made haste to embrace 
So sacred a cause, that was winning apace ; 
So truly therewith did the man sympathise, 
That he gain'd with its gains, and he rose with its rise, 
And Freedom at length did his love so repay, 
That he rules Valparaiso with absolute sway. 

The man has a face which on earth has no fellow ; 
'Tis the face of a corpse which, when living, was yellow ; 
And a body of bones scarcely holding together, 
In a skin like to parchment when spoilt by bad weather. 
A tongue, too, he has, which seems warning his bones 
To go and get buried, so startling its tones ! 
He held by the button, two hours by my watch, 
Bluff Sawney Macdoug^U, broad speaker of Scotch ; 
And full in his face he let drive a whole flood 
Of untuneable Spanish, and un-understood ; 
The Scotchman undaunted retorting the while, 
With the highest-pitch'd brogue of his own native isle. 
Intermission was none, nor alternate suspension ; 
No pausing to guess at each other's intention ; 
Understandings were neutral, no warfare they wag'd, 
The lungs of the parties alone were engaged ; 
A contest more equal there never was seen, 
Nor one more unmeaning, save nations between. 



A COASTING-TRIP. 49 

The rest of the party stood laughing around, 
And the noise of the engine completely was drown' d ; 
Undistinguished it was if the din it increas'd, 
And, alas ! was not heard when the voices had ceas'd ! 
For a screw that to mischief had taken a turn, 
Deserted its trust and unhinged the concern ; 
Of the engine at once it suspended the force, 
And left us adrift in the midst of our course. 
'Twas an awkward mischance, and beyond all controlling; 
So we din'd, talk'd, and slept, while the vessel lay rolling : 
And rolling she lay, without power of progression, 
All the rest of the day and all night in succession. 

At night I went into the cabin below, 
In search of a place where my limbs to bestow ; 
And in the best bed I beheld a strange sight, 
Which struck me at once with surprise and affright ; 
Such masses of smoke did in vollies transpire, 
That the bed, at the least, I was sure was on fire ; 
And, approaching, I witness'd a spark very vivid, 
Quite close to a face that was frightfully livid. 
Zenteno alone could possess such a phiz, 
And it even look'd deader than e'er I'd seen his ; 
But life still remain'd in his tongue and his eyes, 
For he saw me and bade me dismiss my surprise ; 
The ship discompos'd him by rolling so quick, 
And smoking in bed was his comfort when sick. 
Then the remnant he took of a burning cigar 
From his mouth and transferr'd it — it matters not where : 
Suffice it to say, it expir'd with a hiss, 
And an odour quite nameless in writings like this. 

Enabled by means of a breeze to resort 
To our sails in the morn, we return'd into port ; 



50 A COASTING-TRIP. 

For the wind was averse to the voyage intended, 
And so for the present that project is ended. 

But I must introduce you before I debark, 
To a lady* whom yet I have kept in the dark; 
And you, gentle Sir, should prepare for the meeting, 
With all that is humble and grateful in greeting. 
'Tis not every day you've the honour to be 
Introduc'd to a lady so gifted as she. 
She's an author, a painter, a florist, a linguist, 
And fails not in aught, but in all is distinguish'd. 
As a traveller, fame she has earn'd and is earning, 
And well knows the world, and a world has of learning. 
Though but in her prime, in antiquities vers'd ; 
In everything deep, but in nothing immers'd ; 
She passes from study to study, as bees 
From flower to flower with profit and ease ; 
And yet at short notice from labours so sweet, 
To the painfullest duties alert to retreat. 
For counsel in trouble, and conduct in danger, 
Not a man of her friends for a man would exchange her. 
'Tis true that the mind of a woman complex is, 
For in hers is combin'd what is best in both sexes ; 
Devoid of the dross which they both have in common, 
She surpasses the man and excels as the woman. 
For treating the sick, though disdaining a fee, 
A professional man she might very well be : 
From this masculine praise I've but this to detract, 
That she nurses them, too — quite a womanly act. 
She's a man at the least in wit, business, and books, 
And only a woman in feelings and looks. 

* Mrs. Graham, afterwards Lady Calcott— since deceased. 



HIDE FROM QUINTERO. 51 



Pr* torn (f mnto,* 



Valparaiso, August 1, 1822. 

My dislike of Quintero grew stronger and stronger ; 

It made me so sad I could bear it no longer ; 

I'd have given my legs for the wings of a bird, 

Or a crown for a horse, like King Kichard the Third ; 

But for less than a kingdom I compass' d the latter, 

Yea, for less than five shillings, a much smaller matter. 

I said to the Admiral, "I'm sick to the heart 

Of Quintero just now, and I long to depart ; 

To Port Valparaiso I wish to return." 

He kindly replied, "We your absence shall mourn; 

But it is not for me to detain you by force; 

You may ride Chacabuco, my favourite horse ; 

And Pedro, my orderly, take as your guide; 

Start betimes in the morn, and be happy your ride." 

So I rode Chacabuca, once held in esteem 

By General O'Higgins, Director Supreme ; 

For mounted on him, he arose to great fame, 

When he fought the great fight on the field of that name. 

It was just such a horse that King Kichard desir'd, 

When of fighting on foot he so sorely was tir'd. 

* Where the Admiral had a residence, to which the Author accompanied him shortly 
after the failure of the attempt to proceed there by steam, as related in the preceding 
Narrative. 



52 RIDE FROM QTJINTERO. 

From O'Higgins to Cochrane this horse was a gift, 
And from Cochrane to me was a loan for a lift. 
- Us'd only to heroes, I thought that he show'd 
Some symptoms at first of contempt for his load ; 
But when for some time on our way we had mov'd, 
And pleasant that way past expectancy prov'd, 
When bright was the weather, and warm and serene, 
And buoyant my feelings at changing the scene, 
The Admiral's orderly showing the way, 
{My orderly now, I was tempted to say,) 
I thought Chacabuco resum'd the proud gait 
Of a bearer of burthens of weight in the state. 
I thought he was scornful and sulky no more, 
But perfectly proud of the burthen he bore ; 
For the mien of Bucephalus could not be grander 
When conscious of bearing the great Alexander. 
Thought I, if the lion's intuitive nose 
Can smell out a prince in a beggarman's clothes, 
The war-horse the faculty never can lack 
Of discerning the hero he bears on his back ; 
Great qualities oft are long hid from the light, 
Till disclos'd by events that are seemingly slight ; 
And a man from himself his own merits may hide 
Till reveal'd by the horse that he happens to ride. 
So credit I gave to the steed of Quintero 
For first finding out that I, too, am a hero. 

As to Pedro, I knew he had long been renown'd 
For such gifts as in me I so lately had found — 
I mean in a minor degree, understand — 
He was not the hero that's born to command ; 
Yet not less heroic he was in his way, 
For it is not more brave to command than obey. 



EIDE FROM QUINTERO. 53 

Ho had dealt many deaths in the battles on shore, 

And with Cochrane on shipboard had dealt many more ; 

He had thrice rais'd his arm his commander to save, 

And death ever follow'd the blow that he gave. 

Th' Esmeralda display'd on her corpse-cover'd planks 

Not a few who, when falling, ow'd Pedro their thanks. 

I thought of these deeds, which I'd oft heard recounted ; 

I gloried in being so guarded and mounted ; 

My newly -rous'd heroism rose very high, 

And itch'd for occasion its mettle to try. 

But Quixote himself, on so barren a plain, 

Might have sought for a quarrel, and sought it in vain. 

No horseman in armour, nor even without ; 

In a fightable shape not an object about. 

Nor corn nor adventure the soil seem'd to yield ; 

No ears and no laurels to crop on that field. 

O had there but been of Goliah-like growth 

Enough of the first, what a harvest of both! 

Huge sacks with such ears might have quickly been fill'd, 

If giants enow had but come to be kill'd. 

But of food for a conquest extreme was the dearth ; 

The road wanted heating — nought else on the earth. 

The ocean was near, and of monsters prolific, 

But never did hero attack the Pacific: 

A look of defiance I cast at the verge, 

But nought that was hostile presum'd to emerge. 

There was nothing, in short, on which war I could make, 

Not even by dint of Quixotic mistake. 

For before I arriv'd at the Mill of Concon 

I haply remember' d that weapons I'd none ; 

My heroics before their own helplessness fled, 

For a mill with the Mill never enter'd my head. 



54 RIDE FROM QUINTERO. 

The house and the Mill at Concon were erected 
By a man very justly admir'd and respected ; 
Not a native of Chile I scarce need declare,. 
For men of his metal are rarely born there ; 
In return for his birth, which to England he owes, 
He does her great honour wherever he goes ; 
For one in a thousand her children among 
Possess not a judgment so clear and so strong ; 
Nor one in ten thousand that ever acquires 

Such stores of true knowledge as modest John M ; 

Who, with all his discernment, appears not to ken 
That he's wiser or better that most other men. 
His too is the merit of bold enterprise, 
And laudable labour's untir'd exercise ; 
The fortitude too which no crosses depress, 
And the highest deserts whatsoe'er the success : 
But the warmth of his heart is the virtue which draws 
From me this small tribute of honest applause. 

The house of Concon is good-looking and roomy, 
Yet it's lone situation I thought very gloomy ; 
But I never saw dwelling, however commodious, 
That stood by itself that I did not think odious ; 
And if hateful at home is a lone habitation, 
How loathsome abroad in this barbarous nation 1 
When I saw my good friend in his dreary abode, 
I thought of the pearl in the head of a toad ! 
How is it for years that he here has existed ? 
His Mill to be sure must be vastly well gristedl 
What else has enabled him thus to survive 
That worse than all deaths — being buried alive? 
As thus I was pondering, in came his wife, 
And at once I perceiv'd the true source of his life ! 



RIDE FROM QUINTERO. 55 

She enliven'd the mansion, enchanted the ground^ 

And smiling, set nature all smiling around. 

As if nature was conscious she could not do better 

Than learn the sweet lesson her pupil had set her. 

Unaffected this lady, as though she had known 

No other instructor than nature alone ; 

Yet to much common -sense and to sense more than common, 

She added all learning that ornaments women. 

In short, and 'tis truly high praise to confer, 

She's as worthy of John as he's worthy of her. 

Eeluctantly leaving this excellent pair, 
(After sharing their lunch of delectable fare), 
I retum'd to the back of my splendid war-charger, 
Where I sat large as life, and assum'd to look larger, 
For I knew the bright eyes of the lady aforesaid 
Were on me and my war-horse ; what need there be more said ? 
So seen and so seated, such honour had I 
That my lately-sunk heroism rose again high ; 
And I made Chacabuco my consequence feel, 
And frisk here and there at the touch of my heel ; 
And T saw from the lady a signal proceed, 
Which bespoke admiration of me and my steed ; 
(Yet I own I've since heard that on me she bestow'd 
Less praise than she gave to the horse that I rode,) 
Then I bow'd my adieus, and to Pedro I cry'd 
Advance, my fine fellow, and off we did ride. 

But little remains for me now to record, 
For fight I could not without foeman or sword ; 
But to prove my high courage, I rode at full speed 
For a mile, perhaps two, on my high-mettled steed ; 
Then I skilfully settled him down to a trot, 
Then into a canter we gracefully got, 



56 RIDE FROM QUINTERO. 

And Pedro pronounc'd, with a judgment impartial, 
That I manag'd a charger much like a Field-Marshal 
No General at least could niy riding excel, 
For even the Admiral rode not so well ! 

At Port Valparaiso I ended my ride, 
And the charger I gave to the charge of the guide ; 
Well pleas'd with them both, and well pleas'd with my trip. 
But most of all pleas'd with my own horsemanship ! 



THE SHERIFF'S EGG. 57 



Sheriff Parkins' s account of his reception at Court by George the 
Fourth (February 27, 1820), which he published in newspapers 
of that period, gave occasion to the satirical lines which follow, 
entitled " The Sheriff's Egg. 11 

" After the 31st of January, and during the regretted indisposition of the King, I 
made a point of once, and sometimes twice a day, inquiring personally at the Palace 
respecting his Majesty's health, until Saturday night, 26th February, when his pleasure 
was officially made known to me, as one of the Sheriffs, to attend his Majesty at three 
o'clock on Sunday last, on which day I went to Carlton Palace in due form, and was, 
some time afterwards followed by my colleague, where we had the honour of an 
audience of three or four minutes. The King received us alone, standing ; during which 
my colleague read, rather indistinctly, from a card, that the Sheriffs had waited upon 
his Majesty to know his pleasure when he would receive the addresses from the city of 
London, to which his Majesty, with that polite manner for which he is so justly cele- 
brated, graciously answered, that he would receive the addresses on the morrow 
(Monday) at four o'clock by deputation. 

" My colleague, who seemed not fully to understand his Majesty, though he clearly 
expressed himself, was about to ask another question respecting the addresses, when 
his Majesty repeated, that he would receive them both by deputation on the morrow at 
four o'clock, and immediately turned to a gentleman who had entered the room with 
us, and shook him cordially by the hand. We then retired. During this short inter- 
view, I stood within two yards in front of his Majesty, and viewed him with particular 
attention ; and it was with infinite satisfaction that I perceived him to look uncommonly 
well, considering the unparalleled trials he had been recently doomed to endure, in both 
body and mind. His Majesty carried himself with great firmness and dignity; his 
clothes fitted him better than is usual on leaving a sick room ; his limbs retained their 
usual fine proportion, and his eye retained all its wonted vivacity ; so that, with all due 
respect to his Majesty's physicians, I beg leave to differ from them in respect to his 
Majesty's health and constitution, and repeat the opinion to the world, which I gave to 
the citizens, assembled in .the council room, that I think his Majesty is one of the most 
robust-looking men of his age in the kingdom ; and I hope, for its benefit, that God 
will long preserve his life, and confound his enemies, if he has any, either private or 
public ; and that the friends of our free Constitution and of good order will, during a 
popular reign, reap the advantages of his superior understanding, matured by 
experience. 

" I am, &c. 

" J. W. Parkins, Sheriff. 

"March 1,1820." 



wamm 



58 THE SHERIFF'S EGG. 



%\t $\txti£i %, 



Room, room, for the Sheriff, good people, I beg; 
Make room for the Sheriff, who big is with egg; 
And lay it he must in the face of the City, 
Or burst, and excite both your horror and pity! 
So form a ring round him, good people, I pray, 
That plump in the middle his Worship may lay. 
There ! now you may see that miraculous thing, 
The Sheriff's new Egg : "I have seen the new King 
And not at a distance let no man suppose, 
But only two yards from His Majesty's nose; 
And it was not a transient glance, but a stare 
Of three or four minutes: sweet minutes they were! 
In front of his person I gallantly stood, 
And sneak'd not behind as a common man would ; 
I thought of my rank in the City and County, 
Which I ow'd to my merit, and not to your bounty ; 
Of my rank and importance I steadfastly thought ; 
And held up my head as so great a man ought; 
Unabash'd with low feelings, or feelings too fine, 
I stood in his presence, and he stood in mine ; 
I say that I stood, and he did the same thing, 
On so equal a footing I stood with the King! 
He, standing, receiv'd us ; but I am grown loyal, 
And mean not by us, to assume the style royal ; 



THE SHERIFF'S EGG. 59 

There is but one King, and there ought not to be 

Any more than one Sheriff, and that should be me ; 

But, alas! with a plague of a rival I'm curst, 

An impudent dog, who will always stand first ;* 

He got between me and the King, and prevented 

The nose of the City, by mine represented, 

From attaining the singular honour of shoving 

Bang up to nose-royal in manner right loving. 

Some of you have experienc'd the heart-stealing grace 

Of my method of bobbing my nose in your face ; 

And you cannot suppose me less bent on heart-robbing, 

When the smile of a King seem'd to beckon the bobbing. 

By the Colleague you gave me my purpose was crost ; 

So you see how you're punished, what honour you've lost ! 

Besides, the King's pleasure I meant to beseech 

About the Address in an eloquent Speech ; 

And a generous world would have plac'd the amount 

Of the credit thereof to the City's account : 

But the question was ask'd by my plague of a chum 

In half a score words, so that I remain'd dumb. 

From a card indistinctly his message he read, 

But the King quite distinctly heard all that he said ; 

And his gracious reply as distinctly he utter' d ; 

But my chum was so dull he thought Majesty mutter'd; 

And presum'd from lips royal to crave explanation, 

Which was graciously given without hesitation. 

Thus twice did His Majesty kindly express, 

' To-morrow at four I'll receive the Address.' 



* Parkins claim'dtobethe senior Sheriff, having been first chosen; but his colleague 
Mr. RothwelL. being an Alderman, was adjudged to have precedence — which caused 
great vexation to Mr. Parkins. 



60 THE SHERIFF'S EGG. 

And all this he did in that elegant way 

Which the King, of all others, the best can display, 

And I best discern — as I boldy may say. 

Thus far we were honour'd ; now listen to some 
Imperfect account of the glory to come ! 
When the King had deliver'd his royal commands, 
What did he do next? Why he turn'd and shook hands! 
And cordially too, with regard and delight, 

how I was honour'd — to see such a sight ! 
'Twas almost the same as unclosing his fist 

To my own proffer'd palm, which he narrowly miss'd. 

The sight for the shake, like the will for the deed, 

May well be receiv'd between parties agreed: 

And between him and me, that is i" and the King, 

Was a good understanding of that sort of thing. 

So he turn'd and shook hands, but I know not with whom, 

Which we took as a hint to depart from the room. 

But for three or four minutes, at distance not more 
Than a couple of yards, as I told you before, 

1 star'd at the King over Kothwell's broad shoulder, 
An eager, inquiring, enchanted beholder ! 

And what did I see? what is joyous to tell, 

That His Majesty look'd most uncommonly well. 

You had heard he was ill, and you thought, I don't doubt, 

He was laid on a litter, and carried about; 

And you fear'd that he soon would be laid on a shelf: 

But I swear unto you that he carried himself! 

Not upon his own back, or by means of a swing, 

But more like an eagle, aloft on the wing, 

With firmness and dignity, just like a King. 

His limbs retain all their proportion so fine, 

And his eyes with their wonted vivacity shine. 






THE SHEEIFF'S EGG. 61 

Of course you'll conclude that his limbs and his looks, 
(Which in pictures I'd seen, and had read of in books,) 
Were objects which oft I'd familiarly view'd, 
And freely I warrant you so to conclude. 
I say that His Majesty's limbs are as strong, 
And His Majesty's eyes are as bright as when young; 
And His Majesty's clothes fit His Majesty's form, 
And are proper for keeping His Majesty warm: 
And with all due respect to His Majesty's Squires 
And knights and physicians, I say they are liars. 
I differ entirely with every physician 
With regard to His Majesty's health and condition. 
To Death and the Doctors defiance be hurl'd, 
For I, Sheriff Parkins, proclaim to the world 
That His Majesty's illness, lamented as truth, 
Was but a fall backwards — from Age into Youth ! 
Then may God save the King, and his foes be all blighted, 
Which I swear is my pray'r, as I hope to be knighted" 
Thus lay'd he his Egg : What a wonderful case ! 
What goose could do more, were a goose in his place ? 
What goose do so much ; for, more wonderous still, 
The Sheriff deposits his egg with his quill 1 
'Tis hard to determine, put all things together, 
How much he is more than a bird of that feather. 
A bird of that feather, or still more absurd, 
He appears when a feather he takes of that bird : 
He writes himself down, when he takes up his pen, 
The silliest goose ever seen among men. 



62 THE SICK OFFICER'S LAMENT. 



®|.e 3'ul ife's lament 



FOR THE LOSS OF HIS DOG. 



(Founded on an Incident which occurred during a calm at Sea.) 



Yes, all have sought ; but none, alas ! has found — 
All but myself, who am by sickness bound, 
Have sought my missing dog, and all conclude he's drown'd. 

Hope then is vain ; the fruitless search is o'er, 
And nought for me remains, now Ben's no more, 
But his great worth to praise, and his sad fate deplore. 

Hadst thou a soul, my Ben? Is there of thee 
Aught left that yet can hear, and yet can see? 
Lift then thy ghostly head, and look and list to me. 

Kise, ghost of Ben, rise close astern, that I 
May view thee from my hammock as I lie, 
And tell thee how I grieve that thou so young shouldst die. 

Yet not alone that thou shouldst die so young, 
But get thy death from such unnatural wrong ; 
For dogs of age should die, or else for crime be hung. 



THE SICK OFFICER'S LAMENT. 63 

But thou, my Ben, hast perish'd in thy prime, 
Unjustly perish'd without age or crime, 
Neither by rope drawn tight, nor ek'd out length of time. 

Kise then, my Ben, rise close beneath the stern, 
Where with least pain to bear my woes I learn, 
And o'er my varied ills with 'bated anguish yearn. 

My dog that's gone ! my feet that cannot go ! 
How much the first protracts the latter woe ! 
Ben would with tender tongue have sooth'd each aching toe. 

Kise, shade of Ben ! the shade of Ben appears, 
Above the waves his ghostly form he rears ! 
To me he turns his eyes, and tries to raise his ears. 

I hear his solemn, his unearthly wail, 
His spectral nostrils seem to scent the gale, 
And, lo ! he faintly wags his visionary tail ! 

Is this a dream, or art thou there, my pet? 
How can I dream when I no sleep can get ; 
For who can gain repose, with grief and pain beset ? 

Yet, if no dream, it must a vision be ; 
Yea, 't is the spirit of my dog I see : 
Cheer up, immortal Ben ! resume thy wonted glee 1 

Ah ! see he strives to lap the foaming spray, 
But shrinks, and shudd'ring turns his head away! 
Alas! poor dog, art mad? hast hydrophobia? 



64 THE SICK OFFICEK's LAMENT. 

Approach, my Ben ! come nearer to my bed ; 
Yet not too near, if thou canst madness spread : 
Nor need is there t' increase my palate's water-dread. 

But hark ! he speaks ! " I was indeed your pup, 
Tour pupil too, for you did bring me up, 
And taught me how to stand to beg for bit and sup. 

Ere I was wean'd — while yet a tender whelp, 
And could but slowly crawl and feebly yelp — 
You tore me from my home and my fond mother's help. 

And I a captive to your ship was brought, 
Where I, alas! was better fed than taught, 
And learn'd those apish tricks which have my ruin wrought. 

Would I'd resolv'd such learning to avoid, 
And all such teaching dog-gedly defied : 
I might to good old age my dog-days have enjoy'd. 

Would I'd refus'd erect on heels to stand, 
To take my food from man's uplifted hand; 
And fled your fatal ship, and cours'd my game on land. 

Where free to hunt, and catch and eat my prey, 
On my all-fours in my own natural way, 
I should not have been forc'd those dangerous tricks to play. 

Or if, on land, compell'd to act the ape, 
And for my victuals on my heels to gape, 
I had not met my death in this most cruel shape. 



THE SICK OFFICER'S LAMENT. 65 

Boy Jack could not have coax'd me to ascend 
The poop, and on its verge to stand on end, 
To reach the tempting bait he o'er me did suspend. 

Or if, on shore, I'd lost my balance, then 
I had unhurt recover'd it again, 
And not have been as now, your lost, your murder'd Ben. 

To Jack's enticement could I choose but list, 
The savourey luncheon in his beckoning fist ; 
A noble lump of tripe. how could I resist ! 

'Twas Jack, the varlet ! Jack, that did me urge 
To stand on my hind legs so near the verge, 
That when I seiz'd the meat I tumbled in the surge. 

I seiz'd, I reel'd, and overboard I fell, 
But still held fast the tripe, and scorn'd to yell, 
And hop'd, as I could swim, that all would yet be well. 

How soon that hope was dwindled to a wish ! 
That wish how vain when came that monstrous fish 
To whom the tripe and me were but as one small dish ! 

I dropp'd the meat before the hungry shark — 
But me he aim'd at and pursued his mark — 
Nor could I him deter by my terrific bark. 

His jaws enclos'd me in a moment! sad! 
Sad fate, I say; was ever fate so bad? 
Oh, might it not suffice to make a dog run mad ! 



66 THE SICK OFFICER'S LAMENT. 

But fear not, Master, I'm but mad in mind, 
Nor could I bite you were I so inclin'd ; 
Since now I am but shade, with substance uncombin'd. 

Don't whip the boy, the playful thoughtless Jack, 
Who would have risk'd his neck to gain me back, 
Had he not seen the shark, and dreaded his attack. 

His bitter cry, when he my murder saw, 
I heard when entering the devourer's maw ; 
Strange from the deck that cry did no attention draw. 

But 't is no wonder the unlucky lad 
Made no relation of a scene so sad, 
Since he by silence 'scap'd the whipping he'd have had. 

Master, farewell! but first let me advise — 
Not that your dog presumes to dog-matize — 
Take heed what that Ship-quack to your swell'd feet applies. 

Ah ! were I now as I was heretofore, 
Those bed-rid limbs, so fever'd, swell'd and sore, 
My healing tongue would soon to perfect health restore. 

How vain to boast of what I once could do, 
Since now my airy touch would freeze you through, 
And my cold shadowy tongue make a cold shade of you. 

Once more, adieu ! And when your ills are well, 
I pray you hire some rhyming Bard, to tell 
Your dog's untimely doom in his best dog-ge-rel ! " 



THE SICK OFFICER'S LAMENT. 67 

These then are thy last words, my vanished Ben, 
Whom I, alas ! shall never see again ! 
Most justly do thy wrongs demand the Poet's pen. 

By him they shall be writ, by me be wept — 
But hist ! the Doctor to my couch has crept, 
And whispers, " Scarce awake, though he so long has slept I" 



68 



APOLOGY TO TRAVELLERS. 



g|0togj to tekllmL 



Your forgiveness I ask, ye travelling tribe, 

For doubting the wonders you love to describe ; 

And, to make you amends, I in future will bold 

That all things are true that you ever have told. 

If I doubt, it shall be that, from feelings too modest, 

You sometimes omit just the facts that are oddest. 

There is not a monster of which you can brag, 

That I will not admit you have got in a bag ; 

They may be without heads, so you'll leave them a foot, 

And I'll own them alive, yea, and kicking to boot. 

I'll own to more mermaids than yet have been catch'd, 

And to all the sea-serpents that ever were hatch'd; 

You have barely to mention a four-footed eagle, 

And I'll swear that you hunted him down with a beagle. 

At a flight of fierce dragons in Prester John's kingdom, 

You took a shrewd aim with a cannon, and wing'd 'em. 

Your skeleton cows have my fullest belief; 

You've oft seen them graze after eating their beef. 

I confine not my faith to your simple assurance, 

That you've seen the fam'd Bird of five cent'ries endurance : 

You watch'd him the last hundred years of his five, 

And saw him in ashes expire, and revive. 

As you haggled in Lapland concerning the cost 
Of a Wind, with a Witch, you were silenc'd by Frost ; 



APOLOGY TO TEAVELLERS. 69 

Which your offers transform'd into ice as you utter'd 'em, 
And the Witch's concessions as fast as she mutter'd 'em. 
So the bargain in icicles pendulous hung 
From the hairs of her chin, as it dropp'd from her tongue ; 
Till at length a kind Thaw as interpreter came, 
And the contract confirm'd by dissolving the same ! 
Word by word from the beard it came audibly pelting, 
Ne'er was bargain so dry, made in accents so melting ! 
So, releas'd by the Thaw, the Witch fled with her price, 
And you with your Wind, and the Frost with his ice. 

You tell of a tree that grows high from the ground, 
And poisons all nature for twenty miles round ; 
Through a spy-glass you view'd (from a church's high summit) 
That death-spreading plant, about fifty leagues from it. 
You stood with one foot on the spire's scanty top, 
As if to Eternity going to hop ; 

There would just have been room for its fellow-foot, too, 
But the space was half fill'd by another man's shoe. 
For it chanc'd at the time that an artist stood by, 
With a smelling-machine which he came there to try ; 
From the tombs at the bottom he mounted the steeple, 
A church's height downwards to scent the dead people. 
He first took his stand, but you close did pursue ; 
So, bowing politely, one foot he withdrew. 
You nicely adjusted your glass to your vision ; 
He tackled his smeller with equal precision. 
Of the help to his nose the result was in favour; 
Exulting he snuff 'd the sepulchral savour. 
For wantonness then by success render'd ripe, 
He affix'd to your glass his olfactory pipe ! 
This mischief he wrought with unheeded celerity, 
Your abstraction availing to aid his dexterity ; 



70 APOLOGY TO TRAVELLERS. 

At the pestilent tree and its vast desolation, 

You gaz'd through your glass with intent observation. 

Poor culprits you saw (who by rich ones were sent 

To gather the poison,) drop down as they went : 

Without reaching the substance, they died of the scent. 

You could not but shudder to see them expire ; 

Yet you still with one foot stood your ground on the spire. 

Then, after exclaiming, " Oh ! horrible Upas ! 

To thy precincts, alas ! with impunity few pass ! " 

And while you were thinking, how happy to be 

Out of reach of the stench of that damnable tree ! 

Through the tube of the artist your nose's two portals 

Inhal'd the effluvia so fatal to mortals ! 

From sense and from steeple you headlong were hurried 

To a newly -made grave, where you fell dead and buried. 

But the artist descended, laid hold of your nose, 

Squeez'd the pestilence out, and you sneez'd and arose. 

All this I'll believe, and a thousand times more, 
If you'll grant in return the assent I implore ; 
For I, too, have travell'd, and wonders beheld, 
Though I tell but of one, which all others excell'd. 

I sail'd to an island* where mountains rise high, 
And the Fair One was with me of love-beaming eye ; 
The strange transformation I witness'd when there, 
Is that wonderful thing which I now shall declare. 

Ah ! who could have thought that this kindly retreat, 
Where the wreck'd and the wretched found lodging and meat, 
Where the wildest of natures were readily tam'd, 
And cannibals even from blood were reclaim'd, 
Could ever the horrible property own 
Of changing the tenderest hearts into stone ! 

* Juan Fernandez. 



APOLOGY TO TRAVELLEES. 71 

This heart-hard'ning process (to me a heart-render) 
Was complete in that Fair One whose heart was so tender ! 
Within seven long leagues we had barely approach'd, 
When the power of the Bock on her bosom encroach' d. 
When she got a first glimpse of the island's chief pinnacle, 
(As she stood on the deck just abreast of the binnacle,) 
She staid not to soothe her pet dog, for the kick 
Which she gave by mischance, as she turn'd her round quick, 
But rush'd up the poop without mortal assistance, 
To gaze at the horrible rock through the distance. 
Then in at her eyes she took all that was savage, 
Which sunk to her heart and made terrible ravage. 

Next morning, at breakfast, she spake much of torture, 
Of hating her foes, and of giving no quarter ; 

Of the joy it would give her their torments to see, 

And the infamous death she intended for me, 

By hanging me up on the branch of a tree. 
She saw me in peril a little time after, 

On a precipice-top, and it mov'd her to laughter ; 

She protested she never had seen until then 

A thing look so little that rank'd among men. 

And then in a sketch which she made of the spot, 

She maliciously enter'd me down as a dot : 

My body, she said, she reduc'd to a tittle, 

To fit with my soul, which was least of the little ! 
Now do me the justice, ye travelling race, 

To give to my story due credit and place. 

Confess ye ne'er met with a wonder so strange — 

Confess ye ne'er heard of so shocking a change ; 

Confess that a rock has the power to impart 

The nature of flint to a woman's soft heart : 



72 APOLOGY TO TBAVELLERS. 

And pity, I pray you, the pains I am fated 

To endure at her hands, now her heart's indurated. 

From the hanging she threatens, a respite she gives : 
But what is the life that a prisoner lives ? 
Against an escape she has plac'd a sure check, 
For my heart as a hostage she keeps for my neck ! 
And where she confines it to me is unknown ; 
But if she design'd it a prison of stone, 
I trust she reposits my heart in her own ! 






a new-year's gift. 73 



& gA-fm's (lift, 

TO A DISCONTENTED FRIEND: 

With whom the Author became acquainted at Rio de Janeiro; and who, having been 
unfortunate there, returned to England, and found it necessary to accept, for a time, 
the humble situation of Book-keeper to a coal merchant. 



It may be folly, but I hope no sin, 

To rhyme the old year out, and new one in ; 

To beg my friend to pardon silence past, 

Since still my thoughts are his, both first and last. 

So while old Twenty-Five his exit makes, 

And Twenty-Six his new-born being takes, 

The change but serves to cause me to reflect 

On you, and on the change you now expect. 

And yet how slight the change ! 'tis nothing more 

Than being bound more firmly than before ; 

For he, who quits the place for you design'd, 

Makes room, that you may be the more confin'd : 

Which may, in words, a paradox appear, 

Yet be in fact too literally clear. 

And now, my friend, my mental eye shall visit 
Your prison-house, (or counting-house, which is it?) 
Ah ! there my solitary friend I see 
Dangling his two legs on a stool with three ! 
His back to desk oppos'd ; his face to wall ; 
There sits he whistling to no tune at all 1 



74 a new-tear's gift. 

There, the first hour of each returning day, 
He sits, and sighs, and pares his nails away. 
Then slowly round his outward man he turns. 
To face the toil which all his inward spurns. 
And, now, behold with what a loathing look 
He views th' exterior of that pond'rous hook ! 
What less than book of doom can be that volume, 
Which draws a look so sad, so sour, so solemn ? 
Is it the record of convicted souls? 
What black book is it? The black book of coals ! 
But see ! he makes as though he meant to touch 
The dreadful volume which he loathes so much ! 
Not so I as though the slightest touch would soil 
Or bum his fingers, see him yet recoil ! 
Now ! see him now the mighty tome unclose 
With hand resolv'd, but with averted nose. 
Well ! now for business ! see he dips his pen, 
Attempts to write, then wipes it clean again. 
Lord ! with what vigor he applies his knife 1 
He with a feather seems at mortal strife 1 
Never since fs were cross'd or i's were tittled, 
Was goosequill so unmercifully whittled! 
He proves indeed by cutting of that feather 
How glad he'd be to cut — for altogether. 

Yet write he must ! but first he tosses o'er 
The hated pages he had writ before ; 
And then he reads, or into speech he breaks, 
I scarce know which, and these the words he speaks ! 

" Tanfield and Townley, thirty-four per chaldron : 
(In August, twenty-four, sail'd Cochrane's squadron)* 

* On an expedition from Rio Janeiro to quell insurrections in the northern Provinces 
o( Brazil. 



a new-year's gift. 75 

Killingworth forty ; thirty-two Coxlodge. 
(Macgrowther's fifty, forty Major Hodge.)* 
Old Walker thirty ; Beaumont thirty-one, 
(And social Jackson out of town is gone.) 
Eighton at twenty-eight, and Hartley thirty. 
How hard to drudge at work so dull and dirty ! 
Dean's Primrose thirty-three ; the same East Percy. 
The devil take all colliers to his mercy ! 
Willington, Wylam, Shipcote, thirty-seven. 
Yes, Hell's the place for coals, there's none in Heaven ! 
Bell's, Bewick's, Brown's, and Burraton's Wall-End : 
What stuff, by me, is fated to be penn'd ! 
Jesmond's and Hetton's, and Newmarch and Liddell's, 
And Green's Wall's End ; and Ellison's and Kiddell's, 
Cleveland's and Stewart's : Devil take them all ! 
There seems no end to these damn'd Ends of Wall. 
How dull the dingy list of endless length ; 
Not worth one tittle of my " Poet's Strength.f 
Wall's End at thirty-eight ! what a line 
Is that to trace with such a pen as mine ! 
Must thou, my pen, to this vile task submit, 
Skill' d as thou art, to work the mines of wit ? 
Hast thou extracted from the page of Young, 
Thoughts sweet as honey, and as brandy strong ? 
Cans't thou from Shakespear draw the choicest jewel, 
And then descend to note the price of fuel? 
Knows't thou from Pope to cull the finest sense, 
And even Milton's heavenly blaze condense, 

* Names of friends left at Rio. 

t A collection of passages which he had extracted from the Poets, and meditate I 
publishing under this title. 



76 a new-yeak's gift. 

And now, for Vulcan dost thou fag for hire, 
Slave to his basest, his most earthborn fire ? " 

Then he the remnant of his mangled pen 
Throws to the flames, and thus goes on again : 

" These Mains, what mean they? Is a Main a Mine? 
Adair's and Hebburn Main, at thirty-nine. 
Fawcett at forty ; Eden Main and Durham ; 
All sorts of all pric'd coals: the Devil stir 'em! 
Fire they my spirits ? No ! they freeze my brain, 
And numb my every sense, but that of pain ! 
Yet sweet the truth that there from Durham came 
That which still cheers me, Love's delightful flame ! * 
That one best gift does still my mind console 
For all the plagues thou sends't me, Land of Coal ! 
Cast up thy sooty bowels, Durham Main ! 
And labour to exhaust thyself in vain ; 
Let all the mines in Sunderland conspire 
To glut great London with the food of fire ! 
And off let Newcastle her cargos pack, 
Till Thames' fair waters are with coal-dust black! 
What though the whole of that tremendous mass 
Through these devoted hands were doom'd to pass ; 
What though to desk I'm doom'd to stoop the neck, 
To note the sale per sack, or peck by peck ; 
Nay, though the more my patience to provoke, 
I stood condemn'd to register the smoke, 
Still at the labour why should I repine, 
While Heaven's and Durham's choicest gift is mine? 

" Know then, ye Mines and Mains and Ends of Wall, 
Or whatsoe'er your sooty cells ye call, 

* His amiable wife— a native of the County of Durham. 






a new-year's gift. 77 

Not all the burthens your productions black, 
Can saddle on my mind, or on my back, 
Shall ever more extort from me a groan, 
While that chief treasure I can call my own ! 

" Yea, were I doom'd to be thy meanest vassal, 
A heaver of thy produce, grim Newcastle ! 
Content with crooked back and quivering knee, 
To bear thy foulest offspring I could be, 
While Barnard Castle's fairest smiles on me ! " 

Now he with diligence proceeds to write, 
And plies the pen with evident delight ; 
He seems to work as though he could not tire, 
And never stops, except to stir the fire : 
Exclaiming, as the cheerful flames ascend, 
" A better fire I would not wish to mend! 
Ours the best coals than can to London come, 
And Winifred has some of them at home. 
To-night at our Fireside we'll know no sorrow, 
And have a happy Sunday all to-morrow." 

Then having finish'd all his task, he throws 
His cares away, and home he singing goes ; 
But what he sung I cannot now rehearse, 
(For New- Year's morn is dawning on my verse,) 
Except this ending: "why should I complain, 
While Youth, and Help, and Hope, and LOVE remain?" 

January 1, 1826. 



78 parson's law no gospel. 



lawn's |te ttfif §wpl 

Reprinted from the Nottingham Review of 25th May, 1827. 



Farmer Hodge (says Joe Miller — see page forty-nine) 

Thus spoke on a time to the parish Divine : 

"A shocking event, Sir, has happen'd just now; 

A mortal affray 'twixt your Bull and my Cow I 

My heart, I assure you, of sorrow is Ml, 

For my Cow quite to death has been goring your Bull ; 

And in haste to your worship I'm come to inquire 

What remains to be done in a matter so dire? " 

"What remains to be done, is quite plain," said the Priest ; 

You must pay me in full for the loss of the beast : 

In a case of this nature 'tis plain that you must." 

"No doubt, Sir," said Hodge, "your decision is just; 

Tis a rule which such cases must always come under; 

But I fear, in my haste, I've committed a blunder : 

'Tis my Cow that has suffer'd ; your Keverence's Bull 

Has gor'd her to death: please to pay me in full." 

"Of the case," said the parson, "that alters the features; 

Your Cow and my Bull are quite different creatures. 

In the case as it stands with your new explanations, 

The remedy, Hodge, is not payment, but patience I 

Go, practise it, Hodge ; as a friend I advise ; 

Go home and indulge in its calm exercise." 



parson's law no gospel. 79 

What a parson was this ! what a contrast, how striking ! 
To our own precious Rector — so much to our liking ! 
What said he to the Farmers, when humbly they sought 
Amends for the mischief his mastiffs had wrought? 
"Hang the dogs ! " he exclaimed, (and at once they were strangled) ; 
"Well, how many sheep have they murder'd and mangled?" 
" Three score" was the answer: ""Bless me! that's a many! 
Yet I'll pay the full value, I will to a penny ; 
And as to the wounded, if fit to be eat, 
Why let them be kill'd, and the poor have the meat." 
"Said he so," you exclaim, "what a worthy Divine!" 
Why, if he did not it is no fault of mine. 
Perhaps in my hurry, like Hodge aforemention'd, 
I spoke incorrectly, but not ill-intention'd ; 
I doubtless was thinking (if really I've blundered) 
Of his tithes to the tune of a thousand five hundred ; 
(Which so cleanly he gathers, not grudging the trouble), 
And his private estate which is said to be double. 
To those tithe-paying people to pay a just debt; 
To give meat to the poor which but seldom they get; 
And to gain the goodwill of all classes at once, 
I thought (though perhaps I but thought like a dunce) 
Were desirable objects, and not very dear 
At less than a tithe of his tithes for a year: 
Nay, I thought for such objects to pay for the Sheep, 
Might for once be consider'd remarkably cheap. 

"How now!" cried the Priest, "for a fool do you take me? 
What, pay for your Sheep, if the Law will not make me ! 
' A Clergyman I, and a Magistrate too, 
And pay for my dogs killing mutton ! poo, poo ! 
Not I, I assure you ; my purse I shan't draw ; 
Nor shall I lay anything down — but the Law. 



80 pakson's law no gospel. 

If a human delinquent, for hunger's relief, 

Make free with a sheep, you may hang up the thief; 

But I may keep dogs that may take opportunity 

To worry whole flocks ; yes, I may, with impunity. 

You can't claim a farthing your loss to repair, 

Nor aught can you hang, hut yourselves in despair. 

Does the Law, do you fancy, afford you the same 

Defence for your mutton, as us for our game? 

Is your right to your sheep in a field or a fold, 

Like ours to the game which no fences can hold ? 

Have my dogs, do you think, no more title to tear 

Your cattle to pieces, than yours have a hare? 

Can you vainly suppose that your means of support 

Are as sacred in Law as a Gentleman's sport ? 

If such are your notions, 'tis time you were taught 

That more highly you think of yourselves than you ought ; 

And your arrogant views must he humhled and cross'd, 

"When you aim at the price of the mutton you've lost. 

Desist, then, at once, from pursuing your claim, 

And pursue something else; hut it must not he game. 

For you know if you kill but a hare or a bird, or 

Destroy but an egg, it is equal to murder. 

'Tis only of Heaven you mercy can beg 

If you happen to tread on a partridge's egg; 

So equal to hanging would be the Law's doom, 

That I knew not but hanging you'd choose in its room. 

But I tell you again, in regard to the wounds 

And death of tame cattle, when worried by hounds, 

(Provided the dogs have a proper protector, 

And belong to the Lord of the Parish, or Kector,) 

Not the least satisfaction the Law decrees due, 

And 'tis Law, and not Gospel, I'm preaching to you. 



paeson's law no gospel. 81 

"But stay," — then lie added, as though, he in part 
Relented, and felt a slight qualm at his heart — 
"I feel for your loss, though I part with no pelf; 
What your sheep were to you, such are you to myself ; 
A part of my flock; and the interest is deep, 
Which I take in whatever belongs to my sheep. 
You are one of those sheep, Sir, and you, Sir, and you ; 
You're my own simple sheep, the whole parish all through. 
To me as your Shepherd, your fleeces endear you; 
I'll think of your loss when I next come to shear you ; 
When my harvest arrives I'll return you some crumbs, 
Or a portion of snippings when fleecing time comes. 
Go caution the butcher to take proper pains 
To make all he can of the mangled remains. 
With mutton so tender, old folks will be smitten : 
To mouths without teeth, it will come ready bitten. 
No doubt but the sale will reduce the amount 
Of your loss to a trifle ; pray keep an account ; 
Then I'll take the affair into consideration, 
And in process of time I'll make some compensation. 
That is, if my mite as a gift you'll embrace ; 
As of love, not of right ; not of debt, but of grace. 
Call again a month hence, or if not quite so soon, 
I shall have the more time to consider the boon." 

Some weeks then elaps'd, and the farmers once more 
Approach'd their rich Rector, relief to implore. 
But respect to his word — if he ever had any — 
Was gone, and he vow'd he'd not give them a penny. 
More deep in his heart had his wealth taken root, 
And besides he was sorely affronted to boot. 
Of his Reverence's justice some scribe was so hardy 
As to print that it seem'd to be meagre and tardy, 



82 parson's law no gospel. 

And that in his talk of the law of the case, 
Neither Justice nor Equity found any place. 
This was gall to the parson ; yet sweet too as honey, 
For it form'd a pretext for still keeping his money, 
So he loudly complain'd of being grossly abus'd; 
And the parties aggriev'd of the crime he accus'd. 
The innocent farmers disclaim'd the offence, 
Yet he cunningly stuck to that saving pretence, 
And he would not hear truth at the risk of his pence : 
He was fully resolv'd not to pay them a souse, 
And valiantly bullied them out of his house. 

His Keverence at present is thought to be shy 
Of the text, " Do by others as you'd be done by." 
Nor will he yet preach from those words of St. Paul, 
Which bid us own no one, but pay and love all. 
And he feels, it is fear'd, quite a comfortless loathing 
Of all that's denounc'd against wolves in sheep's clothing. 

Note. — The subjects of the foregoing and the following Poem, entitled " More of our 
Rector," were the doings of a Reverend Gentlemen, whom the present Earl of Radnor 
eulogized in the House of Lords, as "that excellent Clergyman, -who had recommended 
that the Governors of Union Workhouses should be men not easily moved to compas- 
sion by tales of distress, whether feigned or real ! " 









MORE OF OUR RECTOR. 83 



The following Poem, entitled "More of our Eector," was 
occasioned by a statement which appeared in a public print in 
May, 1830, as follows :— 

At the petty sessions at Southwell, on Saturday last, an application was made for a 
warrant against the Rev. Robert Lowe, the Rector of Bingham, who was charged 
with having taken a fishing-rod belonging to the complainant, Mrs. Shepherd. The 
complainant is a most respectable old lady, nearly seventy years of age, and it should 
seem was in the habit of taking the diversion of angling in the Greet, a fine trout- 
stream in that neighbourhood. A few days ago, while quietly engaged in her favourite 
diversion, (with express permission of the owner of the field in which she was,) the Rev. 
Mr. Lowe approached her, and insisted on her quitting the spot, as having no right to 
fish there. The lady, conscious of her right, refused to go, or to give up her fishing- 
rod, which Mr. Lowe demanded. Mr. Lowe (as she stated) damned her, and, with much 
abusive language, seized the rod with both hands, and tried to wrest it from her ; but, 
finding he could not effect this by himself, he brought another man to help him, and 
the old lady was ultimately stripped of her rod by main force. The Rev. Mr. Becher, 
the magistrate, having heard Mrs. Shepherd's complaint, explained to her that it would 
be necessary to swear a felonious intent in order to obtain the warrant she sought for, 
and that the circumstances did not seem to warrant such a supposition, and he recom- 
mended her to accept the reparation which the clergyman offered, of restoring the rod, 
or (if it had been injured) of providing another as good. Mrs. Shepherd, having no 
vindictive feelings, after some conversation, accepted this offer. The privilege of fishing 
in the River Greet, we are informed, belongs to the proprietors of the estates along its 
banks, and to any whom they permit to make use of their frontages for that purpose ; 
but great anxiety has been shown by a few influential individuals to exclude all but the 
select from the exercise of an undoubted right, there being no grant of royalty, or 
exclusive property In the fishing. Several proprietors have been induced to agree in 
granting to the select the use of their grounds for this sport, but as several others choose 
to do otherwise, it not unfrequently happens that very extraordinary measures (such as 
disturbing the water with long poles, &&,) have been used to annoy those who, in a 
quiet and legal manner, have ventured to take a harmless hour's fishing, though with 
the express permission of the proprietor of the land. It would seem from some such 
instances, that it is attempted to administer the Nottinghamshire game-laws with a 
vigour somewhat beyond the law. 



Eta jtf tmt $totar. 



What, "more of our Eector! " our own parish-pope! 
Our own Kev'rend Hector ! No libel, I hope ! 



84 MORE OF OUR RECTOR. 

But what of our Eector remains to be told? 

Does he lead a new life, is he tir'd of the old? 

Is the Parson become a new creature at fifty ? 

Has he left off the tricks which were shabby and shifty ? 

Has he learnt to desist from his beggarly plan 

Of tithing the food of the labouring man ? 

Will he tax those diminutive gardens no more, 

Nor seize the tenth cabbage from bare half a score ? 

No more snatch a portion from poverty's platters, 

Nor tithe the potatoes of paupers in tatters ? 

Do those tatters escape his inordinate ken? 

Has he no secret longing for one rag in ten? 

Has his war against innocent publicans ceas'd? 

Does he pardon the ashes of victims deceas'd? 

When they died broken-hearted depriv'd of their bread, 

Did he bury his rage in the graves of the dead? 

In the sports of the field is he tolerant grown ? 

Has he ceas'd to insist that all game is his own? 

Are they poachers alone he would hang ? Would he faulter 

To doom a few authoris'd men to the halter? 

For the laws as to game has he ceas'd to be furious ? 

Can he relish the laws that condemn the usurious? 

When stifling the suit he was sure to have lost, 

Did he learn a sound lesson, not grudging the cost? 

And (speaking of laws) does he quarrel no more 

With those which require him to pay to the poor? 

And is he to fill all their bellies as willing, 

As before he was forc'd to subscribe to their filling ? 

Is the talk that they never taste meat all a fable? 

Do they ever get scraps from his worship's own table? 

And was it to keep them well warm in cold weather, 

That he thrust them all into the workhouse together ? 



MOKE OF OUE HECTOR. 83 

Has he stuck to his promise of so much per ceut 
Abatement to tenants in easement of rent ? 
In short, both at home and abroad, is his life 
With his pulpit-discourses no longer at strife? 
Does he study all former reproach to annul, 
By lending at par, and by paying in full ? 
By love to his neighbour substantially shown, 
By preaching Grod's word, and by keeping his own? 

If so, 'tis a blessed conversion indeed, 
And "more of our Kector" is pleasant to read, 
So generous grown ! all at once, at a leap ! 
And so thoroughly just ! has he paid for the sheep? 
Oh, the sheep I Yes, the sixty good muttons, or more, 
Which his dogs so ferociously hunted and tore, 
And worried to death. Why, there never was debt 
More religiously due ; has he paid for them yet ? 
He promis'd the owners some trifle, at least ; 
But has he paid all, like a God-fearing priest? 
Though he rail'd at their claims, though he stamp'd and he storm'd, 
Yet has he not paid them all since he reform'd? 
Not a farthing at present ; but doubtless he'll pay 
(Let him take his own time) at the great Settling-Day. 
♦Our Bector reform'd, took it into his noddle 
To rummage the scriptures in search of a model ; 
And of all the choice saints the most meet for example, 
Impetuous Peter he deem'd the best sample ; 
Yet he did not presume all his virtues to catch, 
But pitch'd upon those that he thought he could match. 
He couldn't, like him, be resign'd to be poor, 
Nor could he so deeply repent when he swore. 

* All that follows appeared in the Nottingham Review, May 28, 1830, (The pre- 
ceding lines were o 



86 MORE OF OUR RECTOR. 

To rival his goodness he was not so daring, 
But he hop'd to excel him in fishing and swearing. 
He was not for St. Peter without scrip or purse, 
But for Fisherman Peter with oath and with curse. 

Now, " I go a-fishing," said Peter of old ; 
And " I go a-fishing," said Hector the bold — 
And so with his tackle he march'd to the brook, 
And he thought of the fish, and he thought of the cook ; 
He thought of the trout, and he thought of the treat, 
So delightful to catch, so delicious to eat I 
Such sport to come first, with such feast to be back'd ; 
0, his hands how he rubb'd ; 0, his lips how he smack'd ! 
But, lo! when he came to the scene of his joy, 
A vision appear'd his fond hopes to destroy. 
He knew not at first what it was that he saw, 
As it stood on the bank, and it struck him with awe. 
Supernatural it seem'd to our thought-troubled Bector, 
Who shook as at sight of a publican's spectre ; 
As the river intently it seem'd to be viewing, 
He surmised it was musing on water for brewing. 
And it held in its hand what he strangely mistook 
(From want of decision distinctly to look) 
For the crutch which once propp'd a retailer of tipple, 
Whom he drove from the earth at full trot, though a cripple.* 
Yet he ventur'd to move tow'rds the object of terror, 
(Though he trembled the while till he found out his error,) 
And then the dismay of our terrified priest 
Was chang'd into wrath, which to fury increas'd ; 



• For some trivial, or rather imaginary offence, our clerical Magistrate deprived a 
poor crippled publican of his license, and thereby reduced him to want, and broke his 
heart. 



MORE OF OUR RECTOR. 87 

And his feelings were more like a fit of the gout, 

Than the fancy that's tickled with tickling a trout. 

• 'Twas a Lady a-fishing, near seventy years old! 

Which rous'd all the vengeance of Hector the Bold ! 

And clench'd were the hands which he rubb'd so before, 

And the lips that were smacking now quiver'd and swore. 

With suitable action he enter'd the lists, 

First grinding his teeth and then shaking his fists. 

Full charg'd to the muzzle he open'd the battle, 

His tongue like a musket went off with a rattle, 

And shot after shot he let fly in the quarrel, 

As loud and as quick as his own double-barrel. 

We cannot report the reports of a gun, 

Nor are we desirous our readers to stun, 

But thus in effect his explosions did run : 

" You poaching old devil, how dare you come here? 

Down, down with your rod, and quick, quick disappear ? 

If fish you must deal in, to Billingsgate go : 

What Billingsgate is, I shall soon let you know ; 

There buy it, or steal it, and hawk it about, 

But come no more hither a poaching for trout : 

Come, madam, your rod at this instant deliver, 

Or plump you shall go neck and heels in the river." 

The oaths interlarded we must not rehearse ; 
We scorn to disfigure our mannerly verse. 
" The owner," said she, " of this part of the land, 
Permits me to fish in the field where I stand ; 
So my right is as good as your own, saucy Sir, 
And I, at your bidding, intend not to stir. 
And my rod is my own I can prove beyond doubt, 
So still I shall keep it and angle for trout;" 
And then a two-pounder she fairly drew out. 



88 MORE OF OUR RECTOR. 

At the sight of the fish all his soul was on fire, 
And he seiz'd on the rod with demoniac ire. 
The struggle was fearfully fine to behold, 
Of that lady so brave with our Hector so bold! 
She clung to her rod with heroical vigour ; 
He pull'd, and he wrench'd, and he sweat like a nigger, 
And cut, for a parson, a wonderful figure. 
What a scene at its height 1 what a field for a painter ! 
But the priest by degrees became fainter and fainter. 
In vain were his efforts, so firm was the dame, 
And he fell from the contest all cover'd with shame. 
For a witch he reproach'd her, and magical charms, 
And swore she had Satan's own strength in her arms. 
And she in her turn had an awful conceit, 
And cast an inquisitive glance at his feet ; 
Though cluoVd and not cloven, the dame, in her pother, 
Found it hard to distinguish one mark from another. 

But it ended not here, for our Hector at length, 
To rage unsubdued, added increase of strength ; 
To the drops in his pocket he first had recourse, 
Then doubled at once his numerical force ; 
And calling his Squire to his aid he fell on, 
Those two noble heroes fell both upon one ; 
G-rim Jack of the Kiver and Hector the Bold 
Assail'd that good lady, of seventy years old ! 
And bravely again she defended her right, 
But was forc'd to submit to the junction of might, 
Of valiant Squire Jack and bold Hector the knight. 

Then Hector, the victor, gave vent to his mirth, 
And sprung, in a caper, three feet from the earth. 
The rod he had captur'd aloft he display' d, 
Exclaiming, "Look here, you defeated old jadel 



MORE OF OUR RECTOR. 89 

Take your leave with a sigh of this tool of your crime, 

Which to-day you behold for the very last time. 

Would you like just to kiss it before you retreat? 

For 'kissing the rod 1 is your duty, when beat. 

Now, madam, be off, and I warn you for ever 

From setting your foot on the banks of this river. 

The owners of lands which the river runs through, 

Can't give any right to such creatures as you ; 

But grant that they could, I have conquer'd that right ; 

I've made it my own by this glorious fight. 

Lo! here is the trophy my victory gave, 

Which over my river in triumph I wave ; 

The right of the river all centres in me, 

For ever and ever I hold it in fee. 

Its length, and its breadth, and its depth are all mine, 

I engross, I engulph it, by title divine ; 

I resemble the monster, chief beast of the globe, 

That swallow'd a river, pray, read it in Job. 

So approach not my river, not even to drink, 

For if ever I catch you again on its brink, 

I'll resolve the old doubt whether witches can sink." 

Triumphantly home went our Eev'rend Knight-errant ; 
The discomfited heroine went for a warrant; 
She could swear that the Parson by force took the rod : 
"Did he so," said the Justice, "that sounds very odd." 
She could swear he committed a savage assault : 
"Indeed," said his worship, "that looks like a fault." 
She could swear that his language was shocking to hear ; 
" All that," said the Magistrate, " seems very queer." 
So, abus'd, and assaulted, and robb'd, she was come 
To apply for redress: then his worship said "Hum!" 

G 



90 MORE OF OUR RECTOR. 

What could lie say more, without breach of decorum, 
While Hector himself is a Lord of the Quorum? 

But after a shake of the head and a nod, 
He proceeded as follows: — "As touching the rod, 
You can swear that he took it without your consent, 
But not that it was with felonious intent, 
For to rob you don't prove that to rob you was meant. 
In ord'nary cases, 'tis proof, I confess, 
But cases are special when rulers transgress, 
And not in the limits of legal redress. 
The Eector, however, permits me to say, 
As touching the rod, if you'll have it you may, 
And he'll cure all the wounds that it got in the fray. 
And so, by all means, you must close with the offer, 
And all other hurts you must patiently suffer, 
And be thankful withal that your wrongs were no rougher, 
For the law is so tight in this critical case, 
That justice within it can scarcely find place •, 
And I really can't stretch it, I have not the face. 
It would give me great pleasure, I'm sure, to requite you, 
And if any poor knave you can get to despite you, 
And rob and abuse you, I'll certainly right you. 
I'll commit him at once to the House of Correction ; 
I'll transport him, or hang him, pray take your election, 
And his corpse, if you wish, shall be doom'd to dissection. 
But present resentments, dear lady, pray smother ; 
I'm a clerical Justice, and Hector's another, 
And I'm bound by all laws not to vex my own brother." 

Then freely the lady her otject resign' d, 
And bow'd to the Justice, who justice declin'd. 
Yet it was not unjust, though it seem'd rather odd, 
That the party aggriev'd was awarded the rod. 



MORE OF OUR RECTOR. 91 

But a rod, and no more, was but slender redress, 
When even the robber deserv'd nothing less. 
Though depriv'd of his plunder, yet why should he lack 
The rod he so richly has earn'd for his back? 
To prove to our Rector that we are not fickle, 
That we for his claims will still faithfully stickle, 
Our rod we present him ; we know it can tickle, 
And hope it will pungently taste of the pickle. 



92 GENERAL ANSWER. 



§mml &mM 



To all the Twenty-one Enigmas, Rebuses and Charades, in the Gentleman's Diakt 
for 1833.* 



TO THE EDITOR. 



At my Ease by the Fire, with the Diary in view, 

This Note on a Slate with a Pencil I drew. 

On a Sheet I transcribe it, with Wax I shall seal, 

To no Eye but your own it's contents to reveal : 

Till you've judg'd of it's fitness the Public to face, 

And weigh'd to a Straw in so doubtful a Case. 

Then you may, or may not, to all people make known 

How I stumble on meanings, like shins on a Stone, 

And as artlessly knots enigmatic untie, 

As a maiden her Garter when no one is by. 

But suppose on that innocent action a spy ! 
Sure your Headers should know how I'd deal with Paul Pry ; 
Thus his doom I pronounce : let the caitiff be stripp'd, 
Through Parish and Hamlet be hooted and whipp'd, 
Then by the Police to the Treadmill be carried, 
To woe, not a Woman, for life to be married ; 
His dress ' filthy dowlas,' and nothing to eat, 
But coarse barley -bread without mixture of Wheat. 

* Either from not being transmitted in due time, or some other cause, the above 
Answer was not published. 



GENERAL ANSWER. 93 

For a judgment so just in these libertine days, 
Let the Alphabet learn to combine in my praise ; 
Solid pudding in plenty to praise may I add, 
And well, yea in-part, by the Silkworm be clad. 
For espousing her cause may the Maid espouse me, 
The strength and the light of each other to be ; 
And our happy connexion be honour' d as far, 
As though I were Atlas and she were a Star. 



94 



d&ttipa. 



Two brothers in business, in pleasure likewise, 

Though mostly uncover'd, now come in disguise; 

Well adapted, perhaps you will say, for a riddle, 

Being join'd at both ends and disjoin'd in the middle. 

We are porters in place, and in office reporters, 

Commission'd to issue commands from head-quarters. 

We are guards to a prison and take all the fees, 

And keep it the closest when using no keys. 

Our post we are both of us constantly at, 

Yet a pris'ner sometimes will escape for all that. 

We seldom withhold the best food we can get, 

Yet at times o'er his victuals some rebel will fret, 

Discontent in a prison is hard to be cur'd, 

And is apt to increase till it can't be endur'd. 

Then instead of harsh measures, the course that we shape, 

Is a way for the rebels to make their escape ! 

Some say that at times so enrag'd are our crew, 
And so vicious, they bite us, which is but half true ; 
For one of us (he who perhaps may be reckon'd 
The eldest, at least by the tenth of a second) 
Could never be bitten by them in his life ; 
But we own, more than once that so great was the strife, 
When we chanc'd in the fray to be moving asunder, 
That the younger got bit when the rogues had him under. 



95 



Fit place is our prison for creatures like these ; 
For the greater their freedom, the less is their ease. 
Diminish their thraldom, they grumble for pain, 
They're mostly most easy when fast in a chain! 
And were we our portals wide open to throw, 
How the fellows would grin ! but have no wish to go. 

One turbulent captive we're forc'd to keep shut 
In our innermost prison, fast fix'd by the foot. 
He was long since denounc'd as a member unruly, 
And for life to our prison condemn'd he is duly ; 
His appearance is deem'd so disgusting and rude, 
That we seldom permit him his head to protrude, 
He may chance to slip out for a moment by stealth, 
Or come when the Docter inquires of his health. 
Then, if we're not heedful, he slobbers us o'er: 
But, as if he were conscious of being a lore, 
He quickly and gladly withdraws to his nook, 
For the Doctor he hates, but he's fond of the Cook. 

But to speak of ourselves, for our subject is us, 
(Though many the themes we are prone to discuss) 
For keeping high company noted are we, 
And holding high station, though jailers we be. 
We live in a neighbourhood famous for taste, 
And ourselves are suppos'd with that quality grac'd. 
We are apt, it is said, to be petulant oft, 
But to others if rough, to each other we're soft. 
Though we're sever'd awhile, we, like birds of a feather, 
Again quickly meet and close cuddle together. 
There was never of brothers a more loving pair, 
Although we are rivals in love to the fair. 
The same lovely object we long to possess, 
Yet neither begrudges the other's success. 



Together we go to make siege to her heart, 
Yet when we begin to address her — we parti 

But oh! how tremendous, when fair ones appear 
By smiles and kind gestures to bid us draw near, 
Then ask, on a sudden, how dare we encroach? 
And sternly resent the too tender approach! 
What wonder, if peace we can't make by haranguing, 
If then in dull mood you see one of us hanging. 

After all, we continue such mystical elves, 
That no one can tell who we are but ourselves. 



IS HE PAT? 97 



ft At? 



A TALE OF TERROR. 



List ! while I tell in simple rhyme 

A solemn tale and true ; 
A tale of terror and of crime, 

Surprising, strange and new. 

No place of bustle Or renown 

Gives being to my tale ; 
But village small, miscall'd a town, 

In Belvoir's fertile vale. 

There, in a cottage dwelt a man, 
And with him dwelt his son, 

And plunder was their nightly plan 
When daily work was done. 

They did by day affect the task 

Of mending parish-ways, 
And sought to screen beneath that mask 

Their own from public gaze. 



IS HE FAT? 

To breaking stones they seem'd to trust 

For ev'ry want's supply ; 
But broke no more than furnish'd dust 

To blind the master's eye. 

It was but honest labour ap'd ; 

And nightly at its close 
No pigeon-house unpillag'd 'scap'd, 

No hen-roost had repose. 

And now and then a pig they stole 

From violated sty : 
The owner might himself console 

By stealing oft — a sigh.* 

They lov'd to eat their mutton cheap, 

And each to other boast 
That not alone they stole the sheep, 

But fuel for the roast. 

On richest meads they lov'd to poach 

Where fatness did prevail; 
And by and bye we shall approach 

The marrow of our tale. 

The rogues were at their daily craft, 

Their hammers slowly plying ; 
Between the strokes the elder laugh'd, 

Then spake : " Nan Hyde is dying ! 

* " And now and then a sigh he stole."— Alexander's Feast. 



99 



" She breathes her last — nut-selling Nan 
Whose hut's across the common ; 

And sure as I'm a living man 
I'll rob the dying woman. 

" I know her ways ; her wares she puts 

In bags beneath her bed ; 
And I to-night will sack her nuts, 

Be she alive or dead. 

" Meanwhile, my son, mind what I bid, 

Seek Jackson's farthest mead ; 
For there, the flow'ry grass amid, 

His choicest shearlings feed. 

" You know the place ; you know the road; 

Seize the best sheep and slay him ; 
And lift him on your shoulders broad, 

And then to me convey him. 

" The Moon's your lanthorn, or your torch, 
She'll light you there and back ; 

You'll find me in our Church's porch, 
With Nanny's nut-fill'd sack. 

" Of ghosts that walk and graves that yawn 

Such is our townsfolk's dread, 
That none when daylight is withdrawn 

Dares near the Church to tread. 



100 is HE FAT? 

" So there we may securely stay 

Till all the Town's asleep, 
And then to our own cot convey 

The nut-sack and the sheep." 

The son admir'd his father's art, 

Kever'd hirn as a planner, 
And promis'd to perform his part 

In praise-deserving manner. 

And then they thwack'd the stones amain, 

The road macadamising, 
That no one might suspect those twain 

Of any ill devising. 

That afternoon so well they work'd, 
There could be no discerning 

That aught in their intention lurk'd, 
Save hopes of honest earning. 

The evening came ; the rogues were soon 

Carousing in their cot ; 
Whence under favour of the Moon 

They issued for the plot. 

The wicked senior his course 

Across the Common cut, 
And saw the nut-dame's careful nurse 

Lock up and quit the hut. 



IS HE FAT? 101 



The coast was clear ; the practis'd thief 

Soon forc'd the easy lock ; 
And saw — but he could share no grief 

The door had all the shock! 

Yet 'twas a shocking sight to meet 

The eye of mortal man, 
For lifeless in her winding-sheet 

Lay venerable Nan. 

Forth from beneath the bed he drags 
The there entreasured hoard ; 

But nought beside those nut-fraught bags 
Did that poor room afford. 

If there was money, spoons, or both, 
The Nurse had them in care ; 

Yet to depart the knave was loath 
Without some further ware. 

And. now terrific grows the tale, 

'Tis painful to proceed: 
how shall I withdraw the veil 

From his atrocious deed ! 

Most fiend -like act! And yet the Globe 

Burst not beneath his feet I 
He stripp'd Nan Hyde of her last robe ! I 

He stole her winding-sheet ! ! ! 



102 IS HE FAT? 

Then bearing off the pilfer'd nuts, 

The winding-sheet beside, 
Away the horrid monster struts, 

With diabolic pride, 

And soon he reach' d the parish-church, 
Nor fear'd the dead's revival ; 

But calmly in the porch did lurch, 
To wait his son's arrival. 

Meanwhile the Nurse had bent her way 

Towards the Town, to tell 
The Parish-Clerk, without delay, 

To toll the passing-bell. 

For Hyde's last dying words were these : 
" Quick! let the Clerk have warning ; 

My corpse to-night will know no ease 
If left unrung till morning." 

" I can't," replied the Clerk, " I'm lame, 
My gout gets worse and worse ; 

But here's my Son, 'tis all the same, 
Joe! hearken to the nurse." 

'■ Go toll the bell for poor Ann Hyde." 
" There's ghosts ! " (cried Joe) " I won't." 

" Ann Hyde's vex'd ghost," (the dame replied) 
" Will haunt you if you don't ! " 



IS HE FAT? 103 

" dear! dear! then help me Heaven, 

(Cried Joseph) to content her ; 
'Tis moonlight and not past eleven, 

I'll dare the Church to enter!" 

It chanc'd because the Church-porch seat 

The robber found was cold, 
That in the stolen winding-sheet 

He did himself enfold. 

When Joseph to the porch advanc'd 

And saw the figure seated, 
A moment at the sight he glanc'd, 

And trembled and retreated. 

Yet in that moment Joseph saw 

The figure's mouth unshut; 
He saw it exercise it's jaw: 

He saw it crack a nut ! 

He fled, and by the thief unseen, 

Who dreamt of no affright, 
But eating nuts sat all serene, 

And clad in saintly white, 

Joe swiftly to his father ran, 

By fear and wonder hurried, 
And cried, " I've seen her, wretched Nan ! 

She walks before she's buried ! 



104 IS HE FAT? 

It boots not when we toll the bell, 

Since desp'rate is her fare ; 
For now that she no nuts can sell 

She eats them in despair 1" 

"Why Joel" exclaim'd his wondering Dad, 
" There needs no ghost to tell 

That thou art gone stark staring mad 1 
Keturn and toll the bell." 

Then Joe describ'd the ghostly sight, 
And swore 'twas solemn truth ; 

But Dad still disbeliev'd it quite, 
And ridicul'd the youth. 

Said Joe, " Such unbelieving talk 

'Tis sinful to commit; 
'Tis certain that the ghost must walk, 

Because I saw it sit. 

" But since you doubt it, go and see 
With your own mortal eyes ; 

If fearful, you may lean on me, 
Though cowards I despise." 

"I cannot walk," the lame man cried, 
"Whatever ghosts may do." 

" But I can walk," the youth replied, 
" And I can carry you." 



IS HE FAT? 105 

41 Agreed," said Dad, " what you propose 

'Tis fit should come to pass : 
Who on a foolish errand goes 

Should ride upon an ass." 

The parish clerk, like pedlar's pack. 

On Joe's stiff shoulders rode, 
And to the church with sturdy back 

Joe bore his gouty load. 

Soon as the sheeted thief did see 

The youth with shoulder'd heap, 
" Here comes my hopeful son (thought he) 

With burthen of the sheep." 

On threshold of the porch stood Joe, 

Within the figure sat, 
And spake three words, distinct tho' low, 

Those words were — "Is He Fat?" 

Joe was by fear bereft of strength 

And let his father fall ; 
He fell not like a man, at length, 

But rounded like a ball. 

O'er trembling Joseph's drooping head 

His trundling parent went, 
And roll'd against the ghost — half dead 

With terror of th' event. 



106 IS HE FAT? 

Again fled Joseph, full of fears, 

Nor dar'd behind to look, 
For "Is he fat" rung in his ears, 

And all his manhood shook. 

He knew it was an eating sprite, 
It's cracking nuts prov'd that: 

But oh ! it's horrid appetite 
For human flesh and fat ! 

Yet hope reviv'd in Joseph's heart ; 

This thought did him refresh — 
" Those nuts could be but a dessert 

That follow'd meal of flesh : 

" The Ghost has had it's solid meal, 

And help may yet be had, 
Before it appetite can feel 

To worry my poor Dad!" 

Now while that thief was deem'd a ghost, 
And vampire-feeding glutton, 

Himself as erringly suppos'd 
The Parish Clerk was mutton. 

His wand'ring thoughts, by dim moonlight, 
On legs of mutton running ; 

To learn the fancied shearling's plight 
He felt with all his cunning. 



IS HE FAT? 107 



He handled him from head to feet, 
And much was disconcerted, 

And wonder'd to what sort of meat 
The mutton was converted ! 

And scarce less strange it seem'd that he 
Who brought the carcase thither, 

("Whom he suppos'd his son) should flee, 
He wonder'd why and whither. 

This thought however soon occurr'd : 
"He's gone for further booty; 

But why run off without a word? 
What lack of filial duty ! " 

More troubled yet, the rogue exclaim'd 

"This creature is not dead! 
I feel it move, 'tis only lam'd, 

I'll cut away it's head! " 

" spare me, and I'll give thee ease," 
Scream'd out the man that fell ; 

" I'll crawl upon my hands and knees 
To toll thy passing-bell ! " 

The startled thief sprang up, and cried 
" Is that the way you Meat?" 

He drew his knife ; the Clerk had died, 
But for the sound of feet. 



108 



For then arriv'd, and enter'd straight 

The filial thief, and bore 
A slaughter'd sheep, a heavy weight, 

And laid it on the floor. 

" Is that a real sheep you've brought ? " 

Inquir'd the thief paternal, 
" Because the first you fetch'd is nought 

But something that's infernal. 

" It threatens, in a screaming note, 

My passing-bell to ring ! 
I was about to cut its throat, 

But you shall do the thing. 

" You should the moment it was caught 

Have cut away its breath; 
But kill it now, if it be aught 

That can be put to death ! " 

" sad!" exclaim'd the Son, " sad! 

shocking, shocking sight ! 
My father talks like man that's mad, 

And wears a robe of white I " 

" The sheet," replied the sire, " I'll doff, 
Though on for warmth I put it ; 

But see the creature crawling off! 
Find out it's throat and cut it ! " 



IS HE FAT? 109 

The Son then saw a something creep, 

And clapp'd his foot before it; 
" That" said the sire, "you thought a sheep, 

For here I swear you bore it. 

" How could you such a monster bring, 

To show it or to paint it? 
I never saw so foul a thing, 

'Tis pretty mutton ain't it ? " 

" I brought it not," then roared the Son, 

" I went but once abroad, 
And think a good night's work I've done 

In fetching one big load." 

Then of the Clerk, in wrathful tones, 

He question'd " What are you ? 
Eeply before I break your bones 

And split your skull in two ! " 

" Have mercy, Neighbours ! " cried the Clerk, 

" And all shall be revealed ! " 
" He knows us then!" exclaim'd the spark, 

" Why then our doom is seal'd! " 

" Not ours but his 1 " the old one cried, 

And rais'd again his knife ;- 
" Son, you're too slow, let me decide: 

Have at your bloody life ! " 



110 IS HE PAT? 

The cripple strove to rise and run, 
The villains held him down; 

When Joseph, his returning son, 
Eush'd on with half the town. 

The life was sav'd, the rogues made fast, 
They could proceed no further, 

Or else the ' Ghost,' which should come last, 
Would have preceded Murther! 

Yet many thought their labour lost 
That they no ghost could see ; 

They more desir'd to see the ghost 
Than set the captive free. 

In crowds assembled grows desire 

Terrific things to spy; 
Their numbers courage too inspire 

The wish to gratify. 

No ghost's appearance on the ground 

Disgusted every comer ; 
And Joe, in spite of all they found, 

Was designated hummer. 

For he had rous'd the people up, 

Proclaiming that a Spectre 
Would surely on his father sup, 

If there was no protector ! 



IS HE FAT? Ill 

With books and bludgeons came the host, 

And lanthorns, (though not dark,) 
To save from maw of hungry ghost 

The body of the Clerk. 

'Twas something to arrive in time 

To stop assassination; 
But far below the joy sublime 

Of their anticipation. 

A Ghost of such a vampire breed 

As would a man have eaten — 
that had been a sight indeed, 

Not easy to be beaten ! 

The knaves, the nuts, the shroud, the sheep, 

These sights their eyes could boast ; 
But all their hopes of int'rest deep 

Had vanish'd with the ' Ghost.' 

Then just in time, by happy luck, 

Nan's dying wish was crown'd ; 
For ere the midnight hour had struck 

Her passing-bell did sound. 

The Eobbers they to jail did send 

And soon to trial bring; 
And at a month's and halter's end 

The elder knave did swing. 



112 IS HE FAT? 

And little had the younger rogue 
To plead in mitigation ; 

But, hanging getting out of vogue, 
Got off for transportation. 

Good people all refrain from stealth, 
And live by honest means ; 

And pray you for each other's health, 
And don't omit the Queen's. 



MX'ORQUODALE AND CO., PRINTERS, GLASGOW AND LONDOX. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




014 494 052 



